THE SPECTRUM OF GRIEF

RICHARD ALTWEIN

It is not often that we experience tragedy in our life. Perhaps, this reason conditions us to view tragedy as an
exception. Were it otherwise, we may view tragedy as a norm. Yet, that for which we are least prepared to
experience finds its precedent in the lives of others.
When tragedy occurs we ask ourselves who must be blamed. So, we seek a cause. We ask ourselves
questions like where? and when? We seek to give a time and place for the cause. The tragedy is real for us,
whereas the cause may not be.
We choose to lessen the effect of tragedy by seeking a cause. But, this final link in a chain of events also
suffers a cause. So, we face a seemingly infinite series of causes, one prompting the other. But, is this real?
In other words, the idea of a first cause seems to be most real. If we can establish which event prompted
the start of the chain of events that led to a tragedy perhaps, we can establish the likelihood of other tragedies to
follow it as its antecedents.
Yet, may we fail to recognize that what is most real is not a cause at all? If the tragedy we face seems to
end a causal link, this tragedy cannot also be a cause.
Aside from this, tragedy coincides with a feeling of loss. This feeling of loss creates a space. In this space,
we may grieve. Grief as we receive it to be may mean waiting, waiting for the feeling of sadness to pass. Grieving,
however, implies participation with ones grief.
This may occur without our awareness. If grief itself could be a tragedy perhaps, we should be least
prepared to experience grief in this way as well. That is we could be actors of a sort in this tragedy of grief. We
may feel that our lives have become rehearsed, our conversations scripted.
This may be called the tragedy of grief. Grief itself becomes the writer, director and stage of our lives.
And on this stage, we meet the spectrum of characters which become our companions in this drama.
Unfortunately, this drama becomes a tragedy even without our participation, a tragedy within a tragedy.
In a production which spirals inward, it is unlikely that we could respond in the same way, we feel overwhelmed.
The stage becomes crowded and the writer assumes control as the director gets drunk. It seems hopeless.
And, as the curtain falls perhaps, sadness is still a true expression of grief. Were it not so, perhaps even
this idea of tragedy could hold no meaning for us. The idea of tragedy then, becomes for us the representation for
this feeling of loss. In other words, we may relive the tragedy as far as it can represent the loss we feel.

This tragedy loses its power when we grieve. It is in the emptiness of loss that those events may occur
which seem to be less tragic but, perhaps no less painful. Grief gives us the opportunity to grieve, to meet those
companions which flood this now, empty stage.
They come to represent what has been lost, not that it may be recovered but, that it can receive an
account. The tragedy of grief as painful as it seems to bear, must also suffer separate accounts. It is by these
separate accounts that we may form a perspective.
By this perspective we may come to see that the tragedy of grief occurs impersonally. The actors speak
but, not to us. We cannot reach them. The show must go on. And, as we look into their faces we see our own,
saying words we have yet to, doing deeds we have yet to.
It is here that we may feel guilt, a sense of obligation to the tragedy of grief. Yet, we are powerless to
appear on this stage. Our absence is implied. It, however, is by our participation as a witness to the same that we
may come to realize this. Yet, it is we who are on trial.
We can offer no response, no evidence for our acquittal. Hope is lost to the hopeful. And, as the
sentence seems unfit for the judgment, the judgment itself is sound. We hear ourselves ask why? The
machinery of this psychic apparatus roars to life in a bold display of conviction which assures everyone present
that it must be so.
The evidence mounts. More conviction is needed. The science of testimony is paramount. And, as the
precision of these accounts sharpens it becomes apparent that our testimony is a kind of evidence itself.
The trial of emotion we endure becomes the crucible of our soul. Herein, we are brought to bear an
account of that tragedy we call grief. It becomes plain that the loss we suffer is met with new tragedy, the tragedy
of grief.
We sigh and look to heaven, asking if things could somehow not be otherwise. We are bound to this
spectacle of our torment and shame; we cannot turn away.
And, as the captors lead the captive to her cell, we feel the crush of this loss. It breaks us cleanly.
The wound heals. The soul learns to sing again. And, the eyes behold a new heaven of halcyon days.
So, the cycle is complete. We feel the strain of living again. We marvel at the sky in wonder and reel in
our sense of completion.
And, as darkness falls we do not feel alone. Something compels us to understand the effect of our
grieving. We do not grieve alone. We stop asking where? and when?we begin to ask what?, What is the
effect of this tragedy?
It is merely the world.
While the world may be found to explain this tragedy perhaps also, it cannot be the world which can
excuse it. And, as the world grieves with us, we feel a sense of place, a sense of time. It is for this time and place
that the where? and the when? become here and now.
For the first time perhaps, we look at the tragedy of grief with new eyes.