Grasping even the most brittle of straws...

The bereaved learn a great deal about human nature. Of course it's a harsh and cruel way to gain this indepth understanding of the human psyche but there's no doubt about it, those who have lost loved ones do gain that unique insight which is: human beings, by their very nature, cannot deal with mortality. It's not just that they're afraid of dying, it's not just that they're afraid of losing their loved ones, it's that they simply are not programmed to accept, accommodate and process the fact that they are mortal. A bereaved person wears their grief on their sleeve. It cannot be hidden. It's in their eyes. It emits a signal... a warning that death was here, death is near. This signal repels others. Those who come near it feel that it must be crushed.

What I am learning is that because I'm the spouse of a recently deceased man, that makes me the closest thing to death that exists for those around me. So, in short, I represent death. I carry it with me. When I wish to talk about our loss - my husband, the hospice, the funeral, the loneliness, the crippling grief - I serve only to increase the 'death' emissions. The only hope for those around me is that I move on quickly, suppress the grief, smile and look on the bright side. People will always look for 'the bright side' regardless of how fucked up things are. The process goes something like this:

THE BEREAVED: Love... grief... heartache... sad eyes. Death emission overload.
THE FRIEND: Refuse to listen/observe. Offers platitudes.

THE BEREAVED: Grief... heartache... sad eyes. Death emission overload.
THE FRIEND: Refuse to listen. More platitudes. Push against death emissions. Suppress.

THE BEREAVED: Reacts to grief suppression. Anger... rage... irritation...
THE FRIEND: Push push push... keep pushing until she smiles.

Ignore... ignore... ignore... keep ignoring until she smiles.

Distract distract distract... keep distracting until she smiles.

THE BEREAVED: Smiles with sad eyes.
THE FRIEND: Observes 'smile'. Relief!
Halle-fucking-lujah, she's healed.

Long live [the pretence of] immortality.