My mother-in-law died Wednesday. Thursday, there was a viewing. The funeral was today, Friday. The viewing lasted 9 hours, and my wife and I were there the whole time. I met many people I may never see again and almost certainly won't remember. I was able to spend some time with my niece and nephew. I took a Klonopin, and I think it might have helped me with my anxiety. With the exception of my Trazodone, I'm not very good at telling whether or not my meds are working.
I have no feelings about the experience. I wasn't close to my mother-in-law. I'm not sad about her death. I know that other people are, and I'm sensitive to that. I find that the best way to be the most helpful is just to stay out of the way of peoples' sorrow. It rolls along no matter what. I express sympathy by agreeing with people and saying that I understand. I do. It's not pretense. I have sympathy. I genuinely care about people. I just can't draw the lines of my care.
I don't have very deep emotions. My feelings can reach a level of intensity, but they generally don't last very long. Trying to think about how my feelings work is difficult and I often come up with nothing. I'm not stoic, though I can appear so. I'm just mostly flat.
At the visitation, I went to my mother-in-law in her casket. I touched her hand and thought about how she used to play piano. I looked closely at her face and tried to remember it moving. I didn't experience any feelings. I thought about how we define the self and the things we imagine about souls, spirits, or similar vital energies that may survive death. Considering the corpse in the box left me with no stronger emotions than those I feel when I do the dishes or look through Netflix for something to watch. I wonder what it'll be like when my dad dies. Will I suddenly understand why everyone else, seeing Fern lying dead in nice clothes, was somehow existentially moved?
I try to help my wife. She's sad now. I want to make her sadness go away. I care about her and I want her to be happy. Also, sad people annoy me. I don't like that about myself, but it's there. Other people go about their lives under glass. I'm on the outside looking in. Their important things seem small to me. Their normal sorrows seem unnecessary. Perhaps Jane Goodall is a better example. I understand the apes. I make good guesses about them. I've lived with them my whole life. Still, no matter how much I understand about ape society and how much I care for their happiness and wellbeing - no matter how like them I am - at end of the day I am simply not the same kind of ape.
I have no feelings about the experience. I wasn't close to my mother-in-law. I'm not sad about her death. I know that other people are, and I'm sensitive to that. I find that the best way to be the most helpful is just to stay out of the way of peoples' sorrow. It rolls along no matter what. I express sympathy by agreeing with people and saying that I understand. I do. It's not pretense. I have sympathy. I genuinely care about people. I just can't draw the lines of my care.
I don't have very deep emotions. My feelings can reach a level of intensity, but they generally don't last very long. Trying to think about how my feelings work is difficult and I often come up with nothing. I'm not stoic, though I can appear so. I'm just mostly flat.
At the visitation, I went to my mother-in-law in her casket. I touched her hand and thought about how she used to play piano. I looked closely at her face and tried to remember it moving. I didn't experience any feelings. I thought about how we define the self and the things we imagine about souls, spirits, or similar vital energies that may survive death. Considering the corpse in the box left me with no stronger emotions than those I feel when I do the dishes or look through Netflix for something to watch. I wonder what it'll be like when my dad dies. Will I suddenly understand why everyone else, seeing Fern lying dead in nice clothes, was somehow existentially moved?
I try to help my wife. She's sad now. I want to make her sadness go away. I care about her and I want her to be happy. Also, sad people annoy me. I don't like that about myself, but it's there. Other people go about their lives under glass. I'm on the outside looking in. Their important things seem small to me. Their normal sorrows seem unnecessary. Perhaps Jane Goodall is a better example. I understand the apes. I make good guesses about them. I've lived with them my whole life. Still, no matter how much I understand about ape society and how much I care for their happiness and wellbeing - no matter how like them I am - at end of the day I am simply not the same kind of ape.
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