Brevity is not my strong suit. If it can be said in ten words or less I will masterfully find a way to express it in forty. It’s a gift. But there is one arena where I am skillfully succinct – sharing my condolences. It is easy to express myself with other bereaved. There is an innate shorthand to grief, a language immediately recognized and understood by anyone who has suffered the loss of a loved one. We need fewer words to convey the meaning of these heavy and cumbersome emotions. These “feelings” live in our bodies like a parasite – contracted at the moment of loss. When talking to people who have yet to experience deep loss, maneuvering words to translate this weight is exhausting.
When my mother died a colleague took me to lunch to offer her condolences. During the meal she said, “Now you’re part of the club.” I didn’t know what the hell she was talking about or where she was going as she continued, “it’s a pretty elite club.” She had lost her mother several years earlier and shared that she talked to her mother every single day. Apparently this was not something she would have confided to a non-member. Being brand new to the club I didn’t immediately appreciate what she was sharing. Now I do. Completely. I understand there is comfort in maintaining a routine of contact that in a different context could sound a bit off. I understand that membership comes at a high price (and rewards come with fine print). I understand that everyone has their own unique story and experience with grief but the essence is painfully familiar for all of us.
Regarding exclusivity, everyone will eventually be admitted to the club; some things are irrefutable. Sadly we will all be inducted and we will all learn the language. The old Groucho Marx quote couldn’t be more fitting –
“I don’t want to belong to any club that will accept me as a member.”
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