Humans are, by nature, competitive. Whether competing for food, mates, jobs, grades or trophies, it’s what we do. My ophthalmologist friends and I try to top each other’s crazy patient stories, my parent friends and I try to top each other’s crazy kid stories. In almost everything in life there is at least a hint of competition.
Even in tragedy.
A co-worker and I were just talking about the oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico. This is a true environmental disaster. He was talking about all of the animals being killed by the oil, and I’m not insensitive to that, but in my head I’m thinking, it’s not a person. It’s not like Eric. Why do I have to go there? Clearly his intent was not to compare the two, but I did.
I think it just shows how pervasive a loss Eric was to me. I can’t even think about birds and fish dying, without thinking of Eric.
I also compare other human deaths though.
Sometimes I feel justified in the depths of my grief, thinking losing Eric is worse than losing a parent or grandparent who was old, ill and clearly at the end. In those moments I have to force myself to remember that loss is loss and age and illness don’t make it any easier. The finality that is death is still there. It may be a more expected loss, but it’s still a loss nonetheless.
Other times I feel guilty at the amount of my grief and the effects it has on me. Like when I hear about the loss of a child, or a spouse.
Is there a hierarchy of grief? Does a child count more than a brother? And if so, who’s counting?
No, of course there isn’t. All loss is horrible. Everyone deals with grief differently and there are no right or wrong answers. So why can’t I stop comparing things in my head?
I do this with everything, not just with Eric. I compare clothing and nail polish colors and hair styles. I compare what our kids wear, what we drive, what we eat, where we live. Constantly. Does everyone else do this? Or at least the women out there? Or is it just me?
I think we have a need to know where we stand in the world. As if there were some huge list and we need to find our place on it. To do this we look around and see where we fit. It’s why we try to keep up with the Joneses.
In some ways this is a good thing. It keeps our lawns looking neat and our children in bicycle helmets. But surely it doesn’t need to be applied to everything. Eric’s death, any death, is what is it is and there are no comparisons. Each one stands on its own.
Maybe one day my overactive brain will get it.
Um, you're being too hard on yourself. Of course there's a hierarchy of grief. Losing my mom at age 57 is very different than if she had died at age 80. By that same token, losing a parent is nowhere near as screwed up as losing a child. The death of your brother is a tragedy, whereas the death of an old person who had lived his or her life fully and completely is not a tragedy. You are entitled to be pissed off. xoxo.
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