By the way...
...I'm finally working my way "up" to a review of Dancing with Rose. I've had this book on my mind a lot, lately, since my mother's death, specifically because she and I narrowly escaped the possibility of her dying in a facility, for which I am grateful. I may not get to it before company arrives and, if not, probably won't get to it until after they're gone, but I'm writing it in my head, so, once I get started, it shouldn't take very long for the review to take shape and be published.
    Which reminds me, per this comment: I read the publicity blurb, forward and introduction to the book (linked in the comment by a url to the publisher's page promoting the book), then scampered over to Amazon and did a little more free reading through the "Search Inside" facility. Although the book describes the author's own grieving process after her mother's death, it also interweaves some intriguing thoughts about the possibility of Baby Boomer Grief having the potential to change some of the less desirable characteristics of the Grief Culture (specifically North American Standard Cultural Silence in regard to grief) with which many of us are familiar, thus, according to the author, allowing for a "healthier" grief process for individuals and communities. I haven't read the book and probably won't, thus I can't foursquare recommend it, but from what I was able to read, it appears to be very encouraging in regard to the grief-stricken heeding and following one's own grief prerogatives, with which I agree. It also highly recommends leaning on friends and family (assuming one has friends and family) and paying attention to one's own internal timing in regard to grief expectations.
    When I step out of my own "grieving process" I find myself thinking about varieties of the grief experience with which I am familiar: The extended Pagan Catholic wakes that took place on Guam, in which family and community noisily mourned the dead and often gambled away the dead person's assets; stories my father told about somber, silent wakes replete with pennies on the eyes of the deceased; one strikingly austere Buddhist service I attended a long time ago that, for some reason, struck a particularly resonant chord within me, perhaps because of the chanting; the grief journey of the heroine in Dances With Wolves who lost her young husband and is introduced to the hero while in the midst of a solitary, agonizing grief enactment (which is much better delineated in the extended version of the movie, released in 2007). I think about this last one, in particular, because this was one of my mother's all time favorite movies with which she closely identified. There are times when I have the urge to isolate myself, throw myself down beneath a sheltering tree and surrender myself fully to desolate grief in the same way this woman did.
    There are, though, other times, now, when I feel comfortable walking through my days with the memory of my mother, what I know of her life prior to our companionship and all the detail of our closely intertwined companionship. One of the more hopeful aspects of these times is my discovery that, since I am no longer protecting my mother from the thoughtlessness of what we currently call geriatric medicine, since I am no longer doing battle in any way on her behalf, I'm finding the world a friendlier, more optimistic place; much more the kind of place my mother found the world. I'm pleased that her outlook is a part of her personal legacy to me. I wasn't sure it would be, in fact, I was afraid exactly the opposite would be true. So much for the power of fear.
    Later.
- posted by Gail Rae @ 10:13   email  this post