Collective Grief and Ambiguous Loss
“Fractured” Paper Mache, Paint, Wood, Nails 9”x5”x6”
I had made a promise to myself to make a blog post every week. I am struggling with this week though. The prominent thing on my mind as with everyone in this country is Tuesday. Tuesday November 3rd 2020. Everyone in this terribly divided country is in anxiety over this. What will be the direction we choose to go in? Will it be a choice? Do we have a choice? Are we heard? Sitting here waiting out this pandemic. Am I heard? Will my vote be counted? Does it matter?
Putting aside the extreme anxiety I have been feeling surrounding this national election, I have been thinking about collective grief and ambiguous loss this past week. I just read this morning that there were over 90,000 cases of COVID noted yesterday. Yesterday. There have been between 500-1000 deaths every single day from this virus since March. And I actually don’t know all the statistics but when calculating an average, we could probably just leave out the death toll in NYC this spring. I haven’t been personally touched with the virus, no one in my family or small circle of friends has died from it or even been compromised physically from the effects of the ‘Rona as it is so affectionately called. But it’s out there. This virus. It has upended Every. Single. Person’s life in the whole entire world to some degree. Every. Single. Person. Is experiencing some loss in their lives. Whether it be something seemingly little like the local coffee shop permanently closing to something irreplaceable and tragic like someone dear to you dying alone in a hospital. How could you not feel it? The world is weeping.
It is this collective grief I am feeling but also the ambiguous loss of not knowing who it is that is dying alone, who the family members are that are having to find a way to grieve without a last goodbye. I can feel this all around me even though I am thankful it hasn’t touched home. Yet. And then there is the violence and hate, the injustice, the reeling climate, the divisive rhetoric coming from all sides, fuelled by our so-called leader. My heart is exploding and I have no paths to follow in order to help process the grief. I am angry. I have a hard time sleeping. My muscles are so tight and I regularly experience headaches and nausea. I have a deep longing for the world to heal. But I can’t seem to put my finger on exactly what it is that I am mourning. I keep trying to envision a rebirth, but how can I imagine returning from the ashes if I have no idea what is being burned down? All of this is so illusive and intangible from my lonely corner of the bench.
So, I just continue to make art. And put out hope that this world-wide wound will start to heal. That the fracturing of our known realities is giving us the space we need for compassion and love.