Lovely

Warning: This post contains references to rape and loss. If this is a trigger for you, PLEASE do not read any further. 

Over the weekend, I finally had the opportunity to watch "The Lovely Bones." I read Alice Sebold's novel in 2002 when it was circulating on the New York Time's Bestseller list and managed to devour the book within a week. The story is not an easy one, nor does it have a classic happy ending, but I found following the aftermath of the main character's death to be an interesting insight into how a family copes and grows.

The film is definitely not as good as the novel, but I found watching it brought back thoughts from when I was first reading the book, particularly what I was thinking about each of the characters. In general, I had no issues empathizing with all of them (minus the killer): I could connect with Susie while she remembered her life on Earth, her father Jack as he sought out him daughter's killer, her sister Lindsey and her little-brother Buckley as they dealt with growing up in the aftermath of this tragedy and even Susie's eccentric grandmother Lynn. But, no matter how hard I tried, I had trouble connecting with one of the characters: Susie's mother, Abby. From her initial criticism of her husband following Susie's disappearance, to the affair and finally her abandoning her children, I remember reading about Abby's actions with disgust. How could a mother be so selfish? How could she abandon here children, her family, in its time of need? I didn't understand her, her motivations or why she would be so destructive following the loss of her daughter.

10 years later, while watching the film, something clicked. I picked up the novel again, rereading the different portions that detailed Abby's actions and disgraces.  And for the first time, I understood.

Before I share with you my thoughts, I need to start by talking about how our culture deals with death and loss. Normally, we honor the dead publicly, holding a funeral where all who knew the person can pay their respects and say good-bye. But there are rules with this: loved ones are expected to grieve in a certain manner and only for a certain period of time. In general, these rules are not challenged, as most people have a way of finding closure with the loss and are able to move on.

But what happens when the loss is mingled with something horrifying? In Abby's case, her 14-yr-old daughter is raped, murdered and her body never found. Instead of being allowed to grieve this loss, she is dealing with another level wrapped in shame and guilt. Though she is in no way responsible for her daughter's death, she is wrapped in guilt. For the rest of her life, she must deal with the shoulda-coulda-wouldas.

In a way, Abby's loss is similar to the loss caused by infertility. With infertility, one day you decide to start a family assuming all while be well, while with Abby, one day she is simply making dinner and wondering why her teenage daughter is running late. Then something changes and our world is turned upside down. Like Abby, we are immediately thrown into a state of grief, shock and fear. We turn looking for help and answers, but we find that our support system is not as robust as we originally thought. Some are able to be our rocks, but many are lost as what to do and begin to pull away. As time goes on, people begin to hint that we need to move on because life is too short. But the thing is, how does one move on when the answers are not so simple? For Abby, having a memorial will not give her the closure she needs because of the nature of this loss. For IFers, resolving is not a simple decision, but usually a process that requires time, money and even counseling before we can move forward. In the end, it's not as easy as everyone would like us to believe.

Recent events from the last month have really pushed me to my limits emotionally and physically. And there were points where I literally wanted to pack a bag and walk away from it all. What's stopped me is the relationship I have with Grey and the love from good friends who have been an unending source of support. While rereading the passages about Abby, I realized that she didn't have any of this. Despite being surrounded by family, she was alone. And because of her grief, she lashed out by having an affair and then tried to escape from all of it. Don't get me wrong, her actions were selfish. But to villainize her because of these mistakes is wrong. It's wrong because her family failed her too.

The last month has been one that, if I could, I would want to forget for the most part. The bright spots have been the realization that my support network is strong and amazing. Without it, I'm sure I would have thrown in the towel long ago. Instead, I'm trudging along, holding onto hope. This network has been something I cherish and know first hand how hard it is to build. But in a way, I'm lucky. Because now I know who to turn to when my world comes crashing down. I know beter how to communicate with Grey so that instead of being a burden, I can also be a source of support when we get unhappy news.

In a weird way, I'm lucky.

Brief update: bloodwork revealed that I have not ovulated, so we are officially on hold until AF shows up. I'm thinking it will be in the next couple of weeks as my eye has a nice patch of eczema around it at the moment. But I don't have a crystal ball and, frankly, it's out of my hands.