I just don’t want it to hurt anymore
I thought of Axel the other day. He was a young man of 20 something years and I met him at the funeral of his great aunt. There were several things that struck me about Axel. His manners, charm and his rich guttural accent which was both tricky and endearing. But what was even more memorable was the profound sense of grief he honestly expressed at the funeral. It is not something you tend to see in young men and not something you would expect from that particular family connection. But there it all was, tears and tissues to boot.
We chatted for a while at the cuppa after the funeral. He told me how he was an engineer and working for a prestigious firm. They paid him accordingly for his hard work and expertise. There was an attractive partner on his arm who was obviously a great support to him. Then the real story spilled out. How great aunt had been so good to him, taught him things and secretively spoilt him. And then great aunt simply didn’t wake up one morning. So in effect he was just setting off on his ‘grief journey’.
Axel asked me lots of hard questions like “If great aunt wasn’t in the coffin … then where was she? What was life like on the other side of the grave and… how do you know?”
But the phrase I will never forget, the one I had no reply for was this candid admission. “I just don’t want it to hurt anymore”.
For which of course there is no right answer or reply. Hopefully an empathetic silence and a willingness to sit gently with someone seemed like the right thing to do. It still does. I haven’t found or been told about a more appropriate or healing response. Have you?