Good Grief

A necessary part of loss, and my friends get it.

“I felt sorry for myself that I had no shoes, until I met a man who had no feet.”

So goes an old proverb that I believe is intended to make a point about putting things in perspective that has always troubled me. Are we supposed to be happy that our own problems pale in comparison to those of others, or guilty about indulging in self-pity? Either way, somebody still has no shoes and now they feel like a selfish jerk on top of it.

I think that comparisons get it all wrong when it comes to consoling someone who is grieving. We are entitled to feel exactly how awful we feel in the moment without being told we could have it way, way worse.

My mind has been on losing Alison, my sister-in-law. While I am grateful to have known her so well, and that I have a deep trove of sweet Alison memories, I am devastated that I will have to live the rest of my life without her in it. I feel this sorrow as it unfolds, uniquely, not comparatively.

I have had friends check in with me over the past couple of days to see how I’m doing. They have texted, emailed, otherwise conveyed sympathy and support, directing me to a helpful podcast, passing along a New Yorker cartoon. Not one of them told me “yes, Laura, it sucks, but you know what really sucks?” or tried to one-up my sorrow with their own story of loss.

I have been feeling sorry for myself, unapologetically, but I am beyond grateful that my wise friends, rather than pointing out the man with no feet, took me shoe shopping.