On Grief

comforting distractions

Hi everyone, I hope you’re well.

It has been a difficult week here, so this is more “scribbles” than “happy” and I hope you understand.

Over the weekend, Jim’s beloved grandmother, Granny Lou, died. She was 98, and while her death was expected and she is now at peace, it still hurts to know we’ll never hear her delightful Southern accent (inflected with a Katharine Hepburnesque vibrato), or see her cheeky smile again.

Granny Lou leaves quite a legacy: she grew up in North Carolina and moved to St. Louis after her marriage, in 1946. Every summer after, Granny Lou packed up her family, which grew to include four children, and traveled back to her family’s beach cottage in North Carolina, where she orchestrated countless cocktail hours and family dinners with panache and charm. The tradition, known simply as “The Beach,” has endured for over 70 years and now includes four generations - over 30 people.

Getting everyone together at the same time each year is a logistical, emotional, and financial challenge, and it happened largely because no one could disappoint Granny Lou. We all wanted to spend time with her - and each other. And the memories created during those days together have resulted in unusually warm and close relationships between every generation of the family.

Jim and Granny Lou at our wedding

Which is why this week has been so hard.

Just as we began to grieve Granny Lou, Jim’s first cousin, Joey, on the same side of the family, died tragically.

Within three days, this close-knit family lost both their matriarch, and an adored son, brother, uncle, cousin, grandson, and nephew. Joey was a dear, sweet, kind soul, and losing him feels indescribably painful, and unfair.

Joey

We are reeling.

When something like this happens, my first impulse is to do something. I have felt it all week: I desperately want to help! To cook, send notes, to endlessly discuss what happened, trying to piece it all together; to fly somewhere and feel useful. I think this is a reaction to the hopelessness we feel when something so painful happens. I know I want to feel purposeful and in control, to ward off the sense that life is filled with these unforeseeable twists and hard experiences.

I’m also reminded of the weird and unnatural feeling that in times like this, all the minutia of life goes on; and even though it feels like the whole world should stop, it doesn’t, and the dogs need to go out, the kids have homework, there’s work to be done, groceries to be bought, and e-mails to be returned.

As daily life goes on, so does hope and love. It’s Grandparents Day at Sadie’s school today, and we had all been looking forward to Jim’s parents coming to stay for the weekend. We weren’t sure if they’d make the trip after the events of this week, but they’re here, and it’s good to be together.

In fact, one of the first things Jim’s mom, Susie, told me after she arrived was that while this week has been overwhelming and exhausting, it has also felt special because they have been surrounded by family and close friends.

Instead of seeing each other occasionally, everyone they love has shown up - or reached out - and Susie said they’ve all been asking each other: “Why don’t we do this more often? Why do we wait for something bad to happen?” Which reminds me of the way many of us felt during Covid lockdowns, when we were forced to stay away from the people we loved best and suddenly realized how our priorities get misplaced in the hustle of everyday life.

On my end, in addition to wanting desperately to do something, I’ve been craving simple, easy, comfort in every form. Here are some of the things I found helpful this difficult week - maybe you have similar habits in hard times, too?

I put on my coziest fleece (even though it wasn’t cold), along with my softest socks and slippers. For me, hot buttered Vegemite toast is the ultimate comfort food - not just the way it tastes, but the smell, also. I craved baked potatoes, pasta, chocolate, and hot cups of tea.

For lunch with Jim’s parents when they arrived yesterday, I made this incredibly easy tomato soup, and tonight we’ll have slow-roasted chicken with green beans.

Tomato Soup with Grilled Cheese Croutons

Madeline Peyroux Radio on Spotify has been soothing background music.

As was this playlist:

And then there were the distractions:

I discovered Bad Sisters, a new show created by and starring Sharon Horgan, who I fell in love with in Catastrophe (which I was obsessed with until it ended in 2019*).

Bad Sisters is a dark comedy about an untimely death, which I know does not sound like an ideal topic for this week - but it’s funny and kind of ridiculous, and it worked.

This nutty “chicken” dance on Instagram made me laugh out loud - as did this piece about Elton John’s Your Song in the New Yorker: I’m the Person “Your Song” by Elton John Was Written for, and I Would Like a Real Gift Instead.

Listen, I normally would never look a gift horse in the mouth, but, like, it didn’t even have my name in it. That doesn’t seem very personal. Daniel got his name in his song. Hell, he made it into the title! So it’s certainly not like they’re against putting names in their songs—just ask Susie, Bennie, or Tony Danza.

The righteous indignation! The nod to Friends!

So then of course I listened to Your Song…

…which inevitably lead to revisiting Elton John’s performance of Candle in the Wind at Princess Diana’s funeral in 1997, which always makes me cry, and was eerie to see this particular week, following the Queen’s funeral.

We’re going to have a quiet weekend here. It’s crisp and truly fall-ish - there is a real chill in the air now, and the trees are turning colors. It’s the perfect weather for reminiscing outside by a woodfire, cozy blankets at hand.

Hug your loved ones.
xoxo
Amelia

*In fact, I had still have a Pinterest board devoted to Sharon Horgan’s fashion in Catastrophe. I spent a few months all of 2019 trying to emulate her look…