A Sorrow Mark

A sorrow mark-a mark to indicate that one has endured such extreme loss that supporting ones own life no longer seems worth the effort. The aborigines in Australia have a ritual intended to give the victim of such a loss a chance to express it, and perhaps to put it aside. It is a ceremony that consists of dreaming, chanting and dancing, moonlight, a fire and a slice with a sharp instrument across the chest of the mourner.

The symbolism appealed to me. There comes a point in all our lives when we have to put aside that which we have lost, so that we can go on with the day to dayness of living. What better place to put such sorrow, than in a scar that is with us always. It is a mark of recognition from others in the society that some things in our lives are irreplaceable.

When we have lost that which is most dear to us, and our mourning lasts for weeks, and those weeks extend to months, letting go of the mourning is like committing a sort of wrong against that person we have lost, for instance, husband or child who has died. Letting go of our sadness means finally admitting that the person we mourn is gone forever. The scar, however is a receptacle for that grief. We bury the unbearable in the space created by the cutting, that space that would always be an acknowledged part of us, and then go on with our lives.

For a parent who has lost a child, what sort of scar would be large enough to hold that grief? The Chinese have a blessing, which at first blush appears to be small, insignificant. May the son bury his father. It is a blessing that would seem trivial until you consider its opposite, the father-or mother-burying the child. Losing a child is outside the natural order of things. It takes time to heal from having to lose anything, or anyone who is dear to us. It is a wound that can take as great a toll on our lives as would a broken bone, or a severe illness.

However in our society, we are always expected to be on. We are expected to be bright, competent, with it and productive at all times. We don’t permit ourselves the luxury of mourning, and then we wonder why we run into so many situations wherein we cannot control ourselves, turning to food, or alcohol, or drugs, or even sex to satisfy to satisfy an emptiness we don’t want to admit is there. We kick ourselves for feeling depressed, and not wanting to participate in our life activities-adding guilt to the pain we have worked so hard to deny.

We need to know that there is nothing wrong with withdrawing, when our psyche is bruised and tattered, knowing that it will heal, and giving it time to do that.