It has been six short months - this is smaller than a grain of salt in the larger picture of 26 years! It is not time to leave his name out of our conversations - I still need to hear it. You are wonderful to think of me and not want to open a wound (believe me, it if far from being healed) but I still need to hear his name. This poem expresses it so well.
The Elephant in the Room
by: Terry Kettering
There’s an elephant in the room.
It is large and squatting,
so it is hard to get around it.
Yet we squeeze by with,
“How are you?” and, “I’m fine,”
and a thousand other forms of trivial chatter.
We talk about the weather;
we talk about work;
we talk about everything else -
except the elephant in the room.
There’s an elephant in the room.
We all know it is there.
We are thinking about the elephant
as we talk together.
It is constantly on our minds.
For, you see, it is a very big elephant.
It has hurt us all, but we do not talk about
the elephant in the room.
Oh, please, say her name.
Oh, please, say “Barbara” again.
Oh, please, let’s talk about
the elephant in the room.
For if we talk about her death,
perhaps we can talk about her life.
Can I say, “Barbara” to you
and not have you look away?
For if I cannot,
then you are leaving me alone
in a room—with an elephant.
It is large and squatting,
so it is hard to get around it.
Yet we squeeze by with,
“How are you?” and, “I’m fine,”
and a thousand other forms of trivial chatter.
We talk about the weather;
we talk about work;
we talk about everything else -
except the elephant in the room.
There’s an elephant in the room.
We all know it is there.
We are thinking about the elephant
as we talk together.
It is constantly on our minds.
For, you see, it is a very big elephant.
It has hurt us all, but we do not talk about
the elephant in the room.
Oh, please, say her name.
Oh, please, say “Barbara” again.
Oh, please, let’s talk about
the elephant in the room.
For if we talk about her death,
perhaps we can talk about her life.
Can I say, “Barbara” to you
and not have you look away?
For if I cannot,
then you are leaving me alone
in a room—with an elephant.
So my dear friends ...
say Bill - and let's talk so that I will be okay!
This poem perfectly describes an experience I had the other day, bumping into acquaintences. I knew that they knew about my husbands' death, but they didn't say his name. It was so excruciating for me, but I am sure they were only trying to spare me pain.
ReplyDeleteWhen people are brave enough to ask me, though, I light up inside. I love talking about him, and yes he is gone, but there are so many happy memories and great stories to share.
This process includes having to educate others on how to deal with our grief. It can be so tiring sometimes that I would rather become a hermit. But other times it's so rewarding, and I feel myself coming back to life!
Dear Peacewalker,
ReplyDeleteLittle did I know, what now feels like a century ago, that by asking others to say "Bill" were my first steps into re-membering Bill into my life. My journey with grief has been more meaningful by inviting him back into my life rather than trying to "come to terms" that he will never be part of my life again.
Breathe my tender heart.
Yes- it is true. Before my husband and I married, he was widowed. And he explained to me that he'd had to create a new relationship with his deceased wife. I understood in some way, not as deeply as I do now, but she was always a part of our marriage, and that was a very special thing. So his and my relatioship is still alive, but it has changed form. He will always be with me, and I need my friends to know that.
ReplyDeleteIn solidarity and gratitude.... breathing.