a bunch of books about grief: several lovely hopeful books about afterlife (keeping my fingers crossed on that); Good Grief--a novel about a young woman experiencing the loss of her husband; Eat, Pray, Love--a memoir of life after divorce; and now Joan Didion's book The Year of Magical Thinking--about life after losing her husband. Didion's grief is further complicated by the fact that her daughter was in a coma at the time of Dunne's death.
I am reading Joan Didion's book in a search for a certain compatriotism. I have never cared for her as an author, although I can't tell you which book I tried to read and put down, but I figure, "We are sisters in grieving. How can I not embrace her?" I am reading her book, perhaps, with curiosity for how another writer will express all of this. How will she describe the numbing part? Did she go through heightened clarity? Will she walk into a Grand Rounds seminar only to find it's a Faculty Meeting and that Grand Rounds is next week?
The book is cold. Skeleton-like; black bare branches against a clear sky. Spare, the way a poem is spare. One must provide the emotional content oneself. Yet I find myself resonating here and there. When she reviews the doctor reports, the ambulance records, the apartment building logs, I flash back to decoding the ambulance bill. I connect her search for all the specifics to my inability to stop Ky's phone service, because I want to save the records of his last calls (even though I've written down every number and time, I can't bring myself to stop the service). The most poignant connections for me are brief recounts, as when Didion describes closing the dictionary her husband looked at every day and realizes she will never know the last word he was looking up or even the page it was on. Joan Didion even refers--in a "what if" kind of way to Appointment in Samarra--as did I; actually I think my use of the analogy is the better. But we were on the same track.
Although not a word about this is in her book or on the jacket cover, I googled and found out that indeed Didion's daughter Quintana Roo died at age 39. My heart broke for her. No one should lose two people. Losing one is more than sufficient.
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2 comments:
Hi Cindy,
I also read Good Grief and The Year of Magical Thinking in early spring last year after my mom died. Didion's book resonated with me because the dates and events mirrored so many of our family's last year. As you probably know, my father was on life support in December when my mother died from complications of a fall. We waited 3 months to have her memorial service, as my dad somehow came out of the coma and recuperated very slowly, at first in a rehab facility and then at home with 'round the clock care. By March we were all at a point where we could finally pay respect to my mother and honor her with a service. There were so many conflicting feelings and emotions that ran the gamut from deadened (no pun intended) to volcanic. I know that what our family experienced does not compare to what you and Miranda have gone through, but we have spent an extended period of time over the past year grieving and dealing. I am a shoulder and an ear if you ever need either one.
Love, Wanda
Dear Wanda,
It's so nice to hear from you (both here and via email). December starting must be hard: remembering last year's sad events, remembering happy Christmases past, and the added pressure of the first anniversary of losing your mom. Your winter was indeed so much like Didion's, with your dad in a coma. I appreciate your sharing what you have gone through and I would love to talk with you sometime.
Love to you and the family,
Cindy
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