Been There, Done That: Nine Decades And Counting By Alice Herb: Neither Joy Nor Grief Are Time-Limited

By Alice Herb

I learned a long time ago that there are days when one should just stay in bed, as it is going to be a bad day. And for me that day was today. I woke up late for a breakfast appointment with my brother. I clambered out of bed as quickly as my poor limbs would let me and tried to call him to announce my delay. I could not reach him so quickly washed and threw on clothes and climbed into a cab continuing to call. He finally answered and said it was too late for him and I simply returned home – numb and scatterbrained. The rest of the day followed in like disorder. My new iPhone malfunctioned; my new software was unfathomable and so on. But I was determined to carry on, crazy as I am. I am also aware that getting back into bed may not be a safe solution either. Be that as it may, I will write today’s blog.

As my mind wandered into trying to fix the various mishaps, I found calm in remembering what my long-term therapist had once said to me and that was that one cannot have real highs without real lows. At the time, I didn’t think of that as particularly brilliant but have learned that this is definitely true. Both of my husbands marveled at how excited I could get for a small event like a flower emerging from something I had planted, or my first glorious sight of Paris as the plane circled towards the airport or arriving in Tokyo or the Serengeti in Tanganyika or my children and my grandchildren’s births. The downside, unhappily, was the death of my beloved husbands and perhaps even more piercing, the death of my older son. And unfortunately, discovering the lasting effects of the Holocaust. Those were indeed the lowest of lows. But as Elaine Stritch sang, “I am still here.” I consider myself a survivor of both extreme joy and unending grief and feel qualified to write about that. I am aware that most of us shy away from reading downbeat pieces but perhaps you’ll bear with me and I hope I won’t depress you.

Of course, notwithstanding inevitable envy and even a bit of jealousy, most of us enjoy celebrating our friends’ and relatives’ good news, whether weddings, births, anniversaries, or career successes, but few of us want to hear the bad news. And here is where I can tell you this: neither JOY NOR GRIEF ARE TIME-LIMITED. 

A wedding is but a day, while a good marriage will last a lifetime. A coveted job promotion may also not last much longer than a day before the work sets in. Both joy and grief are very individual. Most of us have a great deal of trouble addressing a close relative or friend’s misfortune. But we ought not to make assumptions. For one thing, neither joy nor grief is dealt out in fair proportions. Each one of us has a different level of experience and processes the experience in our own time. What each of us perceives as wonder or tragedy is very individual. And for those who have lived relatively unscathed lives, not getting the apartment/house one coveted may be tragic while for others, it is a simple bump in the road. Obviously, this varies among individuals.  

But the more serious thoughts that I want to share are the hard part of facing a recent widow/widower, a child’s serious illness or death, a refugee’s loss of family, and losing what has been the familiar. These are but a few examples. That it is difficult for the recipient to be fed worn-out bromides. Yes, it will get better. But what does that mean? The “better” never really becomes what was lost. Being asked why one hasn’t gotten over the loss is especially grievous. The scar of grief is there forever. My first husband died almost 60 years ago; my son 45 years ago; my second husband and father in the 1980s. I won’t go on about my mother and my very close aunts and uncles. There isn’t a day that goes by when I don’t think of them. Thinking of them is a joy because of what they gave me and I am ceaselessly happy that I had them for as long as I did. But I am also still grieving. I miss them so much! So don’t ask me how I am.

Wanting any one of us to just move on is another bromide. It takes some strength to get up and move on as life, good and bad, continues to happen. I have a very healthy life force and so I have gotten up countless times and moved on. I have made a lot of lemonade out of the lemons I’ve been dealt and what has surprised me is that I never give in for long. I have lost so many at this point but I am still always hoping for a better day. I also value some very strong relationships that have been invaluable to me. I probably have more lasting connections and activities than most, though a very small number of close family members. I need every one of them for support and joy. But listening and understanding is a very large part of that. I am hoping they will hang in with me, and I hope that you will not find this blog sad but instead helpful. I need all the support I can get.