coping with grief and loss
Prior to losing somebody, we intermittently go through the thought process of anticipating the loss. We recognise that losing someone is a line in the circle of life, that the possession of the person’s presence and cognisance is impermanent. In pre-empting the loss of a person, we try to be optimistic. We count our blessings and are thankful that the person is still with us right now. We try to “enjoy the moment”.
Sensing the ethereal nature of human relationships, compounded with stories of remorse associated with the lack of spending time with that special someone that some people reveal, projects us to fit that someone into our social compartmentalisations. We reason that the amount of love is in proportion to the time spent.
But how much time is enough? We can make proclamations that our world revolves around that person but we fall victim to reality: that other commitments inhibits our ability to fully commit to her.
When we develop a strong attachment to somebody, her absence is unbearable. It affects our lives. We bewail for her presence again. The rupture by the loss appears irreparable. We periodically enter into moments of sorrowful solipsism pondering vivid images of the past together. We bereave.
Catchphrases, games and spontaneous moments shared exclusively or with external parties are reminisced. It’s not that you see her as how one does in a proprietary relationship. It’s the feeling of mutual ownership, both in parity. She’s mine, therefore I am. She completes me, hence I exist. Her being with me, gives meaning to this pitiful existence.
People came and went in my life. I invested (materialistically and emotionally) enormously in relationships. A corollary to this were huge expectations and that the “happily ever after, growing old together” ideal was achievable. My perspective was geared into believing that her loss would only be through death. To consolidate the relationship, the primary method employed was through creating as
Sensing the ethereal nature of human relationships, compounded with stories of remorse associated with the lack of spending time with that special someone that some people reveal, projects us to fit that someone into our social compartmentalisations. We reason that the amount of love is in proportion to the time spent.
But how much time is enough? We can make proclamations that our world revolves around that person but we fall victim to reality: that other commitments inhibits our ability to fully commit to her.
When we develop a strong attachment to somebody, her absence is unbearable. It affects our lives. We bewail for her presence again. The rupture by the loss appears irreparable. We periodically enter into moments of sorrowful solipsism pondering vivid images of the past together. We bereave.
Catchphrases, games and spontaneous moments shared exclusively or with external parties are reminisced. It’s not that you see her as how one does in a proprietary relationship. It’s the feeling of mutual ownership, both in parity. She’s mine, therefore I am. She completes me, hence I exist. Her being with me, gives meaning to this pitiful existence.
People came and went in my life. I invested (materialistically and emotionally) enormously in relationships. A corollary to this were huge expectations and that the “happily ever after, growing old together” ideal was achievable. My perspective was geared into believing that her loss would only be through death. To consolidate the relationship, the primary method employed was through creating as