Grief is Selfish

I got a text from my mother while I was out last night. She said, "I am in the emergency room with grandma. Just pull in the driveway. Street is full."

What?

She was at the ER with her mother-in-law, and she was just trying tell me about the parking situation? Long story short, I ended up at the ER at 2:30 in the morning. Saw my grandma, and then they wheeled her out for an MRI. Was only supposed to take 45 minutes, but it took like 2 hours. I hung with my mom the whole time.

"I'm totally not phased by this stuff anymore," I said. "I've lost two grandparents, and I've seen so many other great aunts and uncles go through these things. I'm not even really affected by this right now. I'm almost numb."

"No, I see what you're saying," my mom said. "I work with death all the time." (She's the cemetery manager for the church.)

"I mean, what is grief, anyway? Are we grieving for the person? Or for ourselves because we'll never see the person anymore? Grief is an inherently selfish act." I figured I'd throw it out there.

"No, you're right. Grief is selfish."

I said, "You know, Grandpa died in the same summer as Snoopy." (Snoopy was our first dog.) "I grieved more for Snoopy than I did for Grandpa. But it's because Snoopy was a bigger part of my everyday life than Grandpa was. I felt bad about grieving more for a dog than for a human being. But that's when I realized that I was grieving for myself."

My grandma is going to be fine. She's got wonky potassium levels, and she kind of OD'd on Advil. But she'll be all right.

I didn't get home until like 5:00 in the morning.