HAUNGS: Life goes on

Loss is a very interesting occurrence in our lives. On some minute level, it happens to us every day, often slipping under the radar. No matter the magnitude of loss that occurs, it accumulates and begins to have profound effects. The great Robert Frost, who always seems to hit me right where I need it, describes that which affects us in the most beautiful terms. In his poem “Birches,” he presents us with a tree weathered by ice and snow. He describes how, even after the changing of seasons, the reentrance of constant sun and the melting of the ice, the branches of the birch tree remain bent and weathered. The presence of certain losses and tough events in our lives may eventually flee from daily thought but our very own birch branches will forever be bent.

The worst pain in life comes when you know you should be crying but you just can’t. Something so deep has come over you that you can no longer think. Nothing’s there and you’ve become trapped in this trance. When you lose something or someone in your life, you almost feel robbed; as if what has just happened was merely a byproduct of crime. Nothing so striking could have occurred on chance or purpose. You begin to stare at food, absentmindedly attend class and wander the busy streets. All the while, your mind is racing through empty space. Actions are gone. To lift a finger would be a chore.

Loss comes from many directions and it’s in those times where we need ourselves the most. Only we can fully comprehend the extent of impact and only we can begin to lick the wounds. Our greatest struggle in this is our aversion from healing our wounds. How could we ever forget the deceased loved one of the lost love? In turn we let our wounds bleed, we tear the scabs and eventually we are left with the hideous scar. The painless mark of our brutal loss.

All the losses I’ve endured haven’t quite hit me yet and I don’t think it ever will. Lives, love, friends, dreams, hopes, expectations and decency have all been stripped from me at one time or another. Still, I just can’t cry. It becomes so frequent that you almost expect it and on a certain level can sense when loss is on the horizon. We cannot allow the body to take full impact of an isolated incident, for it leaves far too much damage and little stability for future losses. So, we don’t cry, or rather, we don’t fully express the emotions we feel until eventually that lack of expression cements and becomes permanent.

It’s tough because no one person can give another person adequate advice on loss because we all experience and handle it in very different ways. I can only direct us back to Frost and the very same poem: “In three words I can sum up everything I’ve learned about life: it goes on.”