on mourning strangers
When I started working in death prevention nearly three years ago, I knew I’d be dealing with hard numbers. I didn’t realize I’d be grieving lives, too. In the face of 100,000 deaths from covid19 here, I’d like to offer some of what I’ve learned over the last few years, on mourning strangers.
people first, numbers second
Grieving is storytelling. We make sense of the world and our pain and our joy by telling stories about it, by rewriting those stories again and again. I will never be able to perfectly write the life story of someone who died, but I can carry forward pieces that I know to be true, and I can write the story of how it shaped me. 100,000 is meaningless. One hundred thousand stories is a library, an oral tradition.
it’s easy to numb, but it’s safer to grieve
In the beginning, I asked my therapist how to make it hurt less. He said the day it started to hurt less was the day I needed to quit my work. It’s supposed to hurt. You wouldn’t throw out a cactus because it pricked you; you’d pluck out the thorn and remember that cactuses need light and air and water and space, just like any other plant. This grief needs light and air and water and space, too. Make sure you give it light and air and water and space.
rituals
Every culture in the world has rituals around birth and death, beginnings and endings. What are yours? Create one, if you need to. Open your grief and be sure to close it, too. Make a container for mourning - space for it, but not infinite space for it. I often light white candles before reading death stories, the same as I do on death anniversaries, so that the smell of extinguished smoke closes the time I’ve given.
take care
A pandemic -- and death on this scale -- is a collective experience of trauma, and in trauma it can be hard to identify and meet our own needs. What is one thing you can do to take care of yourself right now? If that feels overwhelming, try breaking it down into smaller questions; pick one to fulfill:
how does your body feel right now? does it need food? water? sleep? touch?
how does your mind feel right now? is it engaged in thoughts that are stressing you out or calming you down?
have you had a kind interaction with another person today? have you had a kind interaction with yourself today?
I hope this can be just a little balm for these times.
a few medicines for this new moon, halfway between spring and summer:
I planted a few little seedlings this weekend
selfies are bringing me a ridiculous joy lately
I love reading other people’s quarantine journals. it makes me feel less alone.
be well, friends. I’d love to hear - what are your rituals for grieving? you can send me your thoughts or connect on twitter or insta. if someone forwarded you this email, you can subscribe to the copper apothecary on my website.
until next time.