As much as I love children in an endearing and non-creepy way, I'm sure it can be universally agreed that they can be self-serving, selfish little blighters who will do anything to get one over on you to get what they want. As soon as they're born they rely upon everybody else to do things for them; because you know, they're barely developed, and otherwise they would die.
However, even as they grow into toddlers and children, they continue to complain and beg for things for their own incessant instant gratification, in a microcosm of the selfishness of their own existence. One would hope as they emerge into the world of adulthood that they develop some sort of social and moral consciousness, with the intent of becoming less selfish and more open to altruism, but this can't be said for everyone of course.
In this post, I want to discuss this self-indulgence in relation to the process of grief.
Grief involves the process of mourning someone or something, and so includes one's personal feelings of loss. Can it be argued then that this is inherently selfish, or that the very fact that the person grieving is focusing on the loss of another person make it inherently selfless? I'd argue for a combination of the two factors.
Recently I lost my grandmother to an illness which conspired after an accumulating period of her mental and physical deterioration of about three years. The grief I feel for that loss is a natural process of human experience, which can be seen not only in humans, but animals too, most notably in elephants. What I'm getting at is that death causes a natural reaction of mourning, which requires personal involvement, and sometimes isolation, at least in thought or perhaps presence too, in order to get oneself back on track with life. A recovery process if you like.
I lost my grandfather when I was nine years old, and when I compare the feelings I am going through now in comparison with how I felt then, the undeniable factor is how self-involved I was as a nine-year old grieving, in comparison with my grieving process now as a nineteen year old.
Understandably, a major factor in this is due to the very fact that I can process such a thing much easier now than I could then. This is not to undermine the loss I feel now, but it is incredibly easier for a nineteen year-old to grapple with the enigma of death than it is for a child. At nine years old, experiencing first-hand the concept of death is difficult to get your head around. It was my first experience grappling with the issue of mortality - never before had it hit me so hard in the face, and of course, it was a very trying process. Now, however, although it doesn't in any way lessen the feelings of loss that I have, I can process my loss in a very different format, and especially studying theology, I feel I have better ways of coping than when I was nine years old.
In retrospect, I realise that my situation facing my grandfather's death at nine years of age was very selfish, at least in the sense that I turned very insular and introspective: I didn't particularly care about anyone but myself and how I was feeling at the time; whereas now I consider the feelings of my family, and I factor other people and situations into my experience, despite my grief. This relates directly back to my introduction, in that children are selfish, and adults have an obligation to have a moral altruistic aspect to their attitude in engaging with others. Maybe I'm being a little harsh on my nine year old self - of course at that age, I still had to rely on my parents for emotional, physical and financial support and so the way I vented my grief would naturally have been through selfish means, as that was the only reality I knew at that time.
I suppose a lot to do with how I feel now is through keeping myself occupied through work and social relationships, surrounding myself with a support system of friends and family; and when I'm alone thinking about the process of death and grief, processing it in order for it to sink in and become a part of my experience, which I can turn into something positive: of which this blog post is one outlet of that.
When I was nine, I didn't have the cognition to cope with any of that - I just felt alone, I wanted to be alone and that was all that mattered at the time; for which I give no apology, nor should I, for that is the reality of a nine year old who had just lost a grandparent.
I'd say the most difficult thing in terms of my loss now is being away from home, and not being able to support my family so readily in their time of need due to practical and academic reasons. Is this selfishness? I'm inclined to say no, for life must carry on even in the face of death, otherwise what is it all for? I'll be going home for my grandmother's funeral later this week, and although the issue of grief won't be brushed under the carpet after it's over, it will be a way of saying goodbye, and dealing with the emotions that need to be confronted. It will be strange returning to my grandfather's grave during the burial when my grandmother will be placed with him, for it will bring back memories of my nine-year-old self standing there. Ten years on, and history really does repeat itself, but I'll be hoping that the seeds of my faith, however small will continue to fall on fertile ground.
I'll leave you with these irrevocably touching words:
The life of the dead is placed in the memory of the living.
- Marcus Tullius Cicero
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