Slouching into Oblivion

I have never grieved before. I pray never to grieve again. I have been sad before. Death of friends and family and my dogs who all loved me unconditionally. Maybe the suicide of one of my best friends is as close as I came to grief. Before now. For the past two months, I have grieved the loss of Lorena, the woman I loved and who loved me in a way different than I have ever experienced. I offer this not as an excuse, but as a reason, for my unavailability. I am not good at grief, not just because this is my first confrontation with the powerful forces sadness, lonliness, and hopelessness, but because for me it is an intensely personal experience. For me, it is not one I feel comfortable sharing. With anyone. There is nothing anyone can say or do that will change my reality, a reality without the person I planned the rest of my life around. And, I am right. The few times I have ventured out have been disastrous at worst, and uncomfortable for those around me, at best.

I don’t know when the relentless optimism ethic took over the world but it needs to stop. Maybe it first got traction with “How To Win Friends And Influence People” by Dale Carnegie in 1936. Or perhaps it was Norman Vincent Peale in 1952 with “The Power of Positive Thinking.” Today, Instagram and TikTok are filled with self-help gurus promoting the same ideas, “You get what you think about, what you believe in,” hence if you think positive thoughts, positive reality will follow. The underlying premise is we are in control of our destiny and so if good things happen we should pat ourselves on the back because we willed them to happen. Obversely, if bad things happen it is because we weren’t positive, or at least not positive enough. All of which is, demonstrably, bullshit. Most of what happens in our lives has nothing to do with our attitudes or beliefs. The foundations of success and failure, as currently defined, is a combination of innumerable factors, most of which

I’ve written a lot, perhaps too much, about the grief that has devastated me since the death of my love, Lorena. This will be the last on this topic for a while. But before I finish, I need to answer a question that many of you have asked, “What was so special about her?” She was simple, straightforward, and honest. Her ego was always muted, under control, if it existed at all. She didn’t want to compete with me or anyone else. She enjoyed just sitting together. She didn’t need to be entertained. Her life wasn’t a running travelogue. If we went someplace, fine. If we didn’t, also fine. She thought my habit of bringing coffee to her in bed every morning was the kindest thing ever. She spoke well of others. She was beautiful and liked to be pretty but when I told her I thought she was just as beautiful without makeup, she seemed relieved and stopped wearing it except when we went out. She didn’t discuss politics or religion. She was self-motivated. She got up and went