Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.
(An excerpt from Stop all the clocks, Cut off the telephone by W. H. Auden)
In the wake of the tragedy that has befallen the people of our nation, I sanction myself for allowing myself to be dominated by selfish thoughts about my own personal mishaps. One thought keeps going through my mind – Why do bad things happen to people? The knowledge of the ever familiar Kübler-Ross Grief Cycle of shock, denial, anger, bargaining, depression, testing and finally acceptance haunts me, simply because I know I haven’t reached the end yet. Sometimes, I wonder whether blaming one’s self is cowardice, that is, in not wanting to accept reality and in denying one’s self the course of true mourning. In not recognising the full extent of my own loss and in masking it with chirpiness and smiles and assurances that I am okay, in telling myself that the sun will come out and everything will be zipadeedoodah zipadee-a, I have slowed down my process of recovery.
I make no apologies for the fact that I can’t smile today.