Wednesday, June 19, 2013

Loss Language

The second-to-last stanza of Anne Sexton's poem "Gods" is:

Then she journeyed back to her own house
and the gods of the world were shut in the lavatory.

On May 23, 2011, I was up all night illustrating this stanza.  I was flooded with bipolar energy.  I put Venus on the toilet.  Buddha sat on the bathmat.  Zeus was taking a shower.

At some point I conked out, curling up between the laptop and the drawing pad.  A text from my dad woke me a short time later.

"Please call."

There was no pronoun.  I knew from the fact that there was no pronoun, no "me" after "call," that someone had died.

"Have you heard the news?" my dad asked on the phone.

"No," I said.

"Uncle Ken passed away last night."

"Oh my God," I said.  "You're kidding."

Uncle Ken, my dad's brother.

I heard my Great-Aunt Julie say the same words over the phone when my grandma gave her the news later that morning.

"Oh my God," Aunt Julie said.  "You're kidding."

I am a language lover.  A common fear among us language lovers is that our culture is diluting our language.  There are too many "Oh my Gods" in the world; our language has endless more complex, more beautiful expressions of grief.

Death is a dialogue between / The spirit and the dust, says Dickinson.

The heart shuts, / The sea slides back, / The mirrors are sheeted, says Plath.

I feel / the green field of hope, / and then, descending, / all this world's sorrow, / so deadly, so beautiful, says Oliver.

But those things didn't come out.  What came out was "Oh my God.  You're kidding."

I think there is no better way to express grief than with phrases like these.  These phrases are like lightning; they are the lightning that strikes through the body when the body begins to grieve.  Lines of poetry are lucid.  They are true.  But they would not have been accurate in the moment when I was on the phone with my dad and I learned my Uncle Ken had died.

I didn't do any drawing for a while after that day.  If I drew, someone would die.  But I did sketch my Uncle Ken before I went to bed.  His back was to me, he was wearing his button-down and his shorts and his tall socks, and he was standing at the top of a hill.

I can't say much about my Uncle Ken.  His details are too precious to share.  But I can tell you that I still fuss with his verb.  He was a nice guy.  He is very smart.  He was a patient teacher.  He is a good friend.  Was, is, was, is.

I'm not convinced there's a reason to pick one over the other.

= = =

 

22 comments:

  1. I couldn't agree more...no reason to pick. So sorry for your loss, and you told this story well.

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    1. Thank you, Mamarific. Time is something beyond our understanding, I think... and he's always present in my heart.

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  2. Esther, I can feel the love you have for your Uncle Ken in every word you wrote.

    I was moved by this post for so many reasons - the honesty, the poetry, the story, the language, AND the image of Zeus in the shower.

    Keep drawing and writing.

    Karen

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    1. Thank you, Karen! I do still need encouragement to draw. I haven't gone back to that drawing since, even though I loved seeing Zeus in the shower too :)

      I am glad to hear that my love came across.

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  3. Im so sorry. I agree the moment of Oh my God is about the best thing that can be said...it expressed surprise and sadness and a host of other things sort of like your last statement ...it doesnt have to nail anything down...its too intimate a moment. Take care, Z

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    1. "It's too intimate a moment" -- exactly. And it's also a universal moment. It makes it sort of a verbal conundrum, and maybe that's why we have these universal phrases that say private things.

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  4. This is just lovely. I love your conflict over was/is - powerful and honest. And I'm sorry for your loss.

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    1. Thank you. I do slip between the two tenses. I find it strange, but it is probably something a lot of people do.

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  5. Beautifully written piece, Esther. I loved this line: "These phrases are like lightning; they are the lightning that strikes through the body when the body begins to grieve."

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  6. I'm very sorry for your loss. I agree that the phrases we say when we are spontaneous have the most weight to them. Sometimes plain language is the most potent.

    I don't want to sound glib, but I do want to say that the drawing of the gods sounds really great! I hope you'll finish it someday if you haven't already.

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    1. Thank you! I haven't touched the drawing, but I love picturing it in my mind. I think I will go back to it soon, now that I've gotten this story out emotionally.

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  7. I'm sorry for your loss. This is so beautifully written. You are completely right about language. Why is it that text messages so often eliminate the pronoun?

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    1. Thank you. I think the pronoun is omitted in other languages in some cases... I wonder if there's something deeper implied there?

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  8. Beautifully written, your reaction to your uncle's death was from your heart.

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  9. I am a language junkie, too. I don't use the language in my soul very often in speech, though. People laugh, or don't understand. In this way, it is my secret language.
    I loved this post. Beautiful (for lack of a better adjective. ;)

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  10. We have recently lost four (4!) family members within the 6 months and I wish I had had the grace to utter even half of one of your suggestions. Beautifully written- by all.

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  11. Really lived this-- so beautiful and poignant!!

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  12. Beautifully written, heartfelt and lovely. You have my vote this week :)

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  13. This was very touching and thought provoking. Truly sorry for your loss.

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  14. I'm so sorry for your loss- it's clear your Uncle Ken was an important person in your family.
    I agree, the simple words are the best when expressing our shock over such a tragedy.
    A beautiful post- thank you for sharing.

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  15. Very well written, Esther! I may have said the same thing when my mom called to tell me the news.

    I would love to see the picture you drew of Uncle Ken some day if you don't mind sharing. I completely understand if you don't want to share it.

    Love you!

    Kim

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