Zitat des Tages von Meghan O'Rourke:
But there is a discomfort that surrounds grief. It makes even the most well-intentioned people unsure of what to say. And so many of the freshly bereaved end up feeling even more alone.
Nothing prepared me for the loss of my mother. Even knowing that she would die did not prepare me.
If the condition of grief is nearly universal, its transactions are exquisitely personal.
I wasn't prepared for the fact that grief is so unpredictable. It wasn't just sadness, and it wasn't linear. Somehow I'd thought that the first days would be the worst and then it would get steadily better - like getting over the flu. That's not how it was.
Our minds are mysterious; our conscious brain is like a ship on a sea that is obscure to us.
My mother never liked Mother's Day. She thought it was a fake holiday dreamed up by Hallmark to commodify deep sentiments that couldn't be expressed with a card.
One of the ideas I've clung to most of my life is that if I just try hard enough it will work out.
I think about my mother every day. But usually the thoughts are fleeting - she crosses my mind like a spring cardinal that flies past the edge of your eye: startling, luminous, lovely... gone.
And after my mother's death I became more open to and empathetic about other people's struggles and losses.
All love stories are tales of beginnings. When we talk about falling in love, we go to the beginning, to pinpoint the moment of freefall.
What's endlessly complicated in thinking about women's gymnastics is the way that vulnerability and power are threaded through the sport.
My whole life, I had been taught to read and study, to seek understanding in knowledge of history, of cultures.
When my mother was sick, I found myself needing to put down in my journals all sorts of things - to try to understand them, and, I think, to try to remember them.
I believe in the importance of individuality, but in the midst of grief I also find myself wanting connection - wanting to be reminded that the sadness I feel is not just mine but ours.
My theory is this: Women falter when they're called on to be highly self-conscious about their talents. Not when they're called on to enact them.
My mother died of metastatic colorectal cancer shortly before three P.M. on Christmas Day of 2008. I don't know the exact time of her death, because none of us thought to look at a clock for a while after she stopped breathing.
Grief is characterized much more by waves of feeling that lessen and reoccur, it's less like stages and more like different states of feeling.
I'm not much like my mother; that role falls to my brothers, who have more of her blithe and freewheeling spirit.
There is always tension in women's gymnastics between athleticism, grace, performance, and eros.