As steady readers of this blog are aware — yes, there are such people — I spent much of the last few years and the first three months of this one caring for a dying loved one. I can't identify precisely when I knew that Carolyn's breast cancer would be fatal but I sure suspected that well before the doctors said it had evolved into other forms of cancer in other parts of Carolyn. I recall an extended period when at my most optimistic, all I could muster was "It may not kill her but dealing with it is going to be a 24/7 concern the rest of her life."
Then things got worse. A lot worse.
If you've lost a loved one in such a slow, painful manner you know that you tend to serialize your sense of loss. The saddest part may not be the absolute end. In many cases, there's actually a sense of relief that it's over and that the suffering of your friend/relative has ceased. Sheer honesty might even compel you to admit that you're relieved some of yours has ceased as well. You might feel guilty — or think you should feel guilty — but I think it helps to acknowledge that.
This time, I'm writing about an aspect of losing a loved one that I'm sure must be covered in some books and studies but I've never seen that. This is just something I've observed and if the topic makes you uncomfortable, which it might, I suggest you just skip the rest of this posting. It's about the temptation to prolong mourning because of the special treatment you receive from it. People cut you all kinds of slack when they know you're recovering from the death of someone close to you.
One editor of mine didn't read about Carolyn's passing on this blog. He found out about it because a script I promised to have in at a certain time wasn't in at that certain time. That caused him to call and say, "This isn't like you. What's wrong?" I told him and he immediately apologized — like he'd done something wrong — and said, "Just get it done whenever you can." He still takes that attitude with me.
That may actually be the way more editors should be with the folks who write or draw for them. They do not always need the material when they say they do or even when they think they do. But he is now telling me that for the wrong reason. Carolyn's problems are no longer inhibiting my ability to get my work done. If I'm late now, it's me. Still, I have people talking to me like I need extra consideration and some suspension of the rules because I've been through a traumatic experience. I can see where a lot of people would enjoy that.
When I was younger, I worked for a number of months for a guy who had bill collectors in constant pursuit of him. He had dozens and dozens of creditors, many of whom never saw any or all of the bucks he owed them. He mismanaged one business after another and created a domino principle of debts. Company A would crash and burn, leaving him with oodles of bills he could not pay. He would start up Company B and this one would flounder because as money came in, he would have to divert most of it to paying down debts from Company A he was unable to evade. At some point, he'd start Company C to raise the capital to try and make a go of Company B…and this would lead to Company D and Company E and eventually letters of the alphabet that even Dr. Seuss never imagined. Not one of them, at least before I fled his employ without being paid all he owed me, succeeded.
Some people kite checks. This guy kited companies.
He got away with a fair amount of it because he could tell people that his mother had just died. She hadn't. In fact, telling someone that would usually remind him he hadn't called her lately…so after he explained to some creditor that he was behind because of his mother dying, he'd call Mom to say hello. More than once, he lost track of who he'd already lied to. He'd inform some bill collector that his mother had just died only to have the collector say, "You told me that nine months ago. Haven't you buried that poor woman yet?"
It was a great excuse…a kind of "Get Out Of Jail Free" card he could use to gain forgiveness for almost anything. I experienced a little of that when my mother died (really) and a lot more since Carolyn passed, not that I've used my card.
It's important to me to move on, to put it in the past — not the forgotten past but the remembered kind — and return to whatever normality I can manage. This is not a moral stance so much as a personal one. It's just better for me.
It's also what Carolyn would have wanted. I know that because I knew her but also because I can't imagine who would not wish that for their loved ones. That is, if they were sane and their loved ones were truly loved ones. And yet I am well aware that there are those who lose a relative or close friend and proceed to wallow in grief and depression for a long, long time. Some feel guilt for things they did or didn't do. Some think that if you loved someone, that's what you have to do: Show yourself and everyone how miserable you are without them.
And some of them seem to enjoy it. They enjoy the attention and support. They enjoy others asking, "Is there anything I can do for you?" They enjoy the "Get Out Of Jail Free" card when they fail to meet obligations.
Two things made me think about this and inspired me to write this piece. One is that since Carolyn passed, I've received calls from several folks in the world of medicine who treated her and now they're checking to see how I am. They seem pleasantly surprised when I tell them I'm doing fine. I miss her terribly but I haven't let that get in the way of doing things I need to do.
One nurse who worked in palliative care and who knows what I do for my dubious living asked, "Are you writing anything?" I told her I'm writing everything I'm supposed to write and then some. She said, "Good. I've known writers who saw a death in the family as an excuse not to write." I can sure understand that. I've known writers who, if they were out of their favorite potato chips, thought that was a perfectly rational reason not to write.
Also, two weeks ago in Vegas, I was walking through Caesars Palace and I overheard one sentence from a woman strolling with some male acquaintance. I don't know what came before or after this sentence but I clearly heard this sentence…
"Be nice to me. I'm still getting over Mom's death."
Frankly, I think you should be nice to people all the time. If you know they're under stress or have too many problems, you can avoid adding to the pile just then…and if that's what the woman meant, okay. I get that. But the way she said it — and the fact that they were out in a vacation paradise at the moment, not in an Emergency Room or some other kind of crisis center — made me feel that was not the case. I think she just thought she had a little privilege going because her mother had died.
A phrase I've come to dislike in politics is "Get over it!" Like, "Trump won! Get over it!" Or "The Supreme Court just ruled our way and not yours! Get over it!" That's not the same thing as "Someone died! Get over it!" A death is a finite, arguable thing with no chance of reversal. Court decisions can be reversed. Elections can be viewed as flawed and the process can be fixed. With deaths, about all you can do is to get over them and it's wise not to make it take a long time. Reconfigure your world to work as much as it can without the departed person around…but as for the basic loss? Get over it. No matter how much you cared about the person, get over it. Even if it means people treat you like everyone else and you have to start meeting deadlines.