In England we swallow our feelings. We concentrate on the birds. We button grief up as firmly as our coats. In the Bahamas grief is loud, physical and unashamed....
Dear India, as QEII said and it is carved in a pillar in St. Thomas' Episcopal Church in NYC, "Grief is the price we pay for love." For me, seeing that, it was the message that I needed to go on. Love never dies. I miss my people that have gone on before me, deeply, but the love that I feel for them still abides in my heart. All emotions and all ceremonies and revelries are allowed. Let that big band play for Lady Pamela. I think she would love it.
Both ways work, indeed. I am Bahamian, born and bred- but public displays of grief (and affection) have never come naturally to me. With age I am, however, getting ‘better’ at. I went to university in England and have spent a significant amount of time there. So I also understand the stoicism… the ‘stiff upper lip’ cliché. There is an equal amount of dignity and humanness in both.
Good morning India. I feel your communicating with us is your way of expressing loudly. I don’t know if you realize how your words affect all of us and we’ve all felt the pain. Thank you for sharing your life with Pamela. And your incredible family. XR
Coming from the buttoned up camp of containment, I admire the Bahamian way and the cultures that allow grief to revel loudly and openly. Regardless of culture, grief is the same … no set path, no set schedule, no particular beginning or end. It just is, as we navigate through it and determine what form we shall quietly tuck away and carry forward forever.
Thank you for this. I am Greek and in my southern European Balkan country grief is also a very loud and shared experience. People here often wear black when a loved one dies at least for 40 days, although I didn’t when my father died. In some areas of the country it is customary to cover the mirrors with long drapes. Wakes are still being held for the dead in some rural areas. Funerals are often held with the coffin uncovered. I don’t know which expression of grief is more helpful both for the grieving and for those around them. I have been to funerals of friends who died young and have witnessed parents fainting, mothers and wives wailing, siblings screaming. Sometimes I wish my culture had the restraint of the British. It is truly unbearable to witness such raw and deep pain unfolding before your eyes
During the time you have written about your mother's passing, my own dear mother has been at the end of her life, in hospice and died at 101. I am currently planning her memorial service, which is heart breaking and surreal, but I have greatly appreciated the feelings that you have articulated about your experience. Thank you.
Grief, I think, has different way of hitting us. Because of the relation in it self. A relation in total balance and a relation in disharmony has different faces of grief. Grief a dear and loved one which you shared beauty’s with, and grief after someone who one grief,s in life because of the lack of relationship between eachother.
I started to grief my father when he still was alive because the thought of missing him one day, was unbearable. I was about 5-6 years when i understood that is one day will happens.
It is 39 years my daddy crossed the bridge from a period of being ill. So, my grief out of love and grief out of missing him dearly has become my companion alongside my life. And in my family we talk about the ones who has gone before us. A way of keeping them and their memory alive. Som of them gets some more attention, just because they ment something special
❤️🤍
So, the inner culture has its place too, beside the culture around.
Same grief but different surroundings.
I think, as i have learned trough you, about your dear Mother , Lady P. That any grief with silence as one tradition or with as you describe it, the Bahamian way. Is fine!
Same deep grief with deep feelings, quiet or with noice . It is still a grief from the bottom of yours. A beautiful relationship between a Mother and a daughter.
Keep on tell us about your dear Mother!
A beautiful way of keeping her with us, with you.
There are no timelines for love and no timelines for grief.
After such a lovely photo and essay, you have the open heart to ask our thoughts. What a beautiful way of sharing that even though your grief is a bit sequestered deep inside, it is also open to heartfelt sharing. That is how I feel about nearly all emotions. Hold them close and personal, but still with open arms for those who come close. Thank you for allowing us to do so. We care about you.
India, you have beautifully expressed what so many others need to hear. Any way that you express your grief is right for you. This much I have had to discover for myself: The passage of time is the quiet healer that lingers silently nearby, even as you stumble about in pain. Its constancy never wavers, on good days and on the worst of days. In the fullness of time's ointment, you will see what you cannot see now. Someday, you will laugh again and easily smile again at the remembrance of your beloved Mother.
The thing that helped me so much was, instead of carrying on as if it hadn’t happened, I talked about my mother whenever I wanted to. Told stories. Talked about the service. Things about her I admired and even didn’t like. How much I missed the routine of going to see her or calling. It took one solid year of grief expression for it to abate. Finally there has to be loving acceptance. Hope this helps someone.
Oh India, your words ring so true to my own experience. I grew up in the Deep South. My childhood church was different than my nanny’s. I enjoyed the incredible gospel music at her church. Sadly our family attended her Mom’s funeral. As a child I watched folks scream out with grief, women dressed in white like nurses standing behind the family fanning them to keep them from fainting with grief. I allowed myself to cry. A few years later at age 15 I lost my sister in a car wreck. My family set in my own church quiet. Oh how I wanted a nurse, permission to wail. Robert and I married at my parent’s house in Ga. and that same gospel choir sang for us that day. Thinking of you and your Mum. Your two worlds, how beautiful. 🙏
Written beautifully, both ways work❤️❤️
Dear India, as QEII said and it is carved in a pillar in St. Thomas' Episcopal Church in NYC, "Grief is the price we pay for love." For me, seeing that, it was the message that I needed to go on. Love never dies. I miss my people that have gone on before me, deeply, but the love that I feel for them still abides in my heart. All emotions and all ceremonies and revelries are allowed. Let that big band play for Lady Pamela. I think she would love it.
Beautiful. Love and blessings to you, India.
Both ways work, indeed. I am Bahamian, born and bred- but public displays of grief (and affection) have never come naturally to me. With age I am, however, getting ‘better’ at. I went to university in England and have spent a significant amount of time there. So I also understand the stoicism… the ‘stiff upper lip’ cliché. There is an equal amount of dignity and humanness in both.
Good morning India. I feel your communicating with us is your way of expressing loudly. I don’t know if you realize how your words affect all of us and we’ve all felt the pain. Thank you for sharing your life with Pamela. And your incredible family. XR
Coming from the buttoned up camp of containment, I admire the Bahamian way and the cultures that allow grief to revel loudly and openly. Regardless of culture, grief is the same … no set path, no set schedule, no particular beginning or end. It just is, as we navigate through it and determine what form we shall quietly tuck away and carry forward forever.
Hugs to you India. Xx
Thank you for this. I am Greek and in my southern European Balkan country grief is also a very loud and shared experience. People here often wear black when a loved one dies at least for 40 days, although I didn’t when my father died. In some areas of the country it is customary to cover the mirrors with long drapes. Wakes are still being held for the dead in some rural areas. Funerals are often held with the coffin uncovered. I don’t know which expression of grief is more helpful both for the grieving and for those around them. I have been to funerals of friends who died young and have witnessed parents fainting, mothers and wives wailing, siblings screaming. Sometimes I wish my culture had the restraint of the British. It is truly unbearable to witness such raw and deep pain unfolding before your eyes
During the time you have written about your mother's passing, my own dear mother has been at the end of her life, in hospice and died at 101. I am currently planning her memorial service, which is heart breaking and surreal, but I have greatly appreciated the feelings that you have articulated about your experience. Thank you.
The photograph is loaded with love. It reminded me how my babies also grabbed onto my fingers just for the connection.
How fortunate you have been.
Grief, I think, has different way of hitting us. Because of the relation in it self. A relation in total balance and a relation in disharmony has different faces of grief. Grief a dear and loved one which you shared beauty’s with, and grief after someone who one grief,s in life because of the lack of relationship between eachother.
I started to grief my father when he still was alive because the thought of missing him one day, was unbearable. I was about 5-6 years when i understood that is one day will happens.
It is 39 years my daddy crossed the bridge from a period of being ill. So, my grief out of love and grief out of missing him dearly has become my companion alongside my life. And in my family we talk about the ones who has gone before us. A way of keeping them and their memory alive. Som of them gets some more attention, just because they ment something special
❤️🤍
So, the inner culture has its place too, beside the culture around.
Same grief but different surroundings.
I think, as i have learned trough you, about your dear Mother , Lady P. That any grief with silence as one tradition or with as you describe it, the Bahamian way. Is fine!
Same deep grief with deep feelings, quiet or with noice . It is still a grief from the bottom of yours. A beautiful relationship between a Mother and a daughter.
Keep on tell us about your dear Mother!
A beautiful way of keeping her with us, with you.
There are no timelines for love and no timelines for grief.
It is the same.
Yes keeping on telling us about your Mother. Each word is so dear.
there is time for all the ways- grief and tears catch us unexpectedly sometimes inexplicably
the love never dies
... yes ... we miss them ... the ones we loved: the ones who deeply loved us ...
It's an Irreplaceable & Enduring Love stretched across all the restrictive confines of Time - Past, Present & Future.
Grieve well, dear India.
Either way, quiet or loud.
The living cosmos still hears you.
After such a lovely photo and essay, you have the open heart to ask our thoughts. What a beautiful way of sharing that even though your grief is a bit sequestered deep inside, it is also open to heartfelt sharing. That is how I feel about nearly all emotions. Hold them close and personal, but still with open arms for those who come close. Thank you for allowing us to do so. We care about you.
India, you have beautifully expressed what so many others need to hear. Any way that you express your grief is right for you. This much I have had to discover for myself: The passage of time is the quiet healer that lingers silently nearby, even as you stumble about in pain. Its constancy never wavers, on good days and on the worst of days. In the fullness of time's ointment, you will see what you cannot see now. Someday, you will laugh again and easily smile again at the remembrance of your beloved Mother.
The thing that helped me so much was, instead of carrying on as if it hadn’t happened, I talked about my mother whenever I wanted to. Told stories. Talked about the service. Things about her I admired and even didn’t like. How much I missed the routine of going to see her or calling. It took one solid year of grief expression for it to abate. Finally there has to be loving acceptance. Hope this helps someone.
Oh India, your words ring so true to my own experience. I grew up in the Deep South. My childhood church was different than my nanny’s. I enjoyed the incredible gospel music at her church. Sadly our family attended her Mom’s funeral. As a child I watched folks scream out with grief, women dressed in white like nurses standing behind the family fanning them to keep them from fainting with grief. I allowed myself to cry. A few years later at age 15 I lost my sister in a car wreck. My family set in my own church quiet. Oh how I wanted a nurse, permission to wail. Robert and I married at my parent’s house in Ga. and that same gospel choir sang for us that day. Thinking of you and your Mum. Your two worlds, how beautiful. 🙏