Post by connie on Oct 2, 2011 10:10:48 GMT -5
I cannot begin to imagine what it was like for family when word came that they had paid the highest price that war can extract. But there were many families in the 106th that received this news. After all these years there are no words that provide solace. Eyes still well up in tears, and a catch in the voice comes with the memory of loss.
Even now it is a painful subject that we often steer away from.
The response of the community around the remaining family probably did not differ too much from what we can find in loss today. (Although in that intense time perhaps both the best and the worst of human nature were amplified).
It could be hoped that in a nation at war with every family at risk that every new widow and every other family member would have been surrounded by caring support. Certainly there were some who experienced the comfort of those who had been down this road or who somehow had developed the courage of empathy.
But I have heard just enough to tell me that this was not always the case.
There is something in human nature -- a protective device-- that often tries to distance itself from pain. Any wall that announces that this couldn't happen to the distancer will do. I suspect that in a nation where the possibility of grief hung over every household, the urge to distance was a powerful force. And some who didn't intentionally distance themselves just didn't know what to do. (They hadn't learned that there is nothing to do-- just be there and care).
The result was that young widows sometimes found themselves completely isolated from peer support at a time when that support was most needed.
I know that many from the division tried to reach out individually and as a group after the war. I have heard the stories of how much the visit from a comrade meant. But the every-day local support of friends and neighbors may have been missing early on for some.
This message is especially directed to anyone who experienced or was affected by chilly isolation in a time when a warm hug or simple eye contact was needed -- after the obligatory casseroles were consumed and after the flowers had wilted.
It is decades late. But if it helps in any small way, know that your lonely pain is acknowledged.
Connie
Even now it is a painful subject that we often steer away from.
The response of the community around the remaining family probably did not differ too much from what we can find in loss today. (Although in that intense time perhaps both the best and the worst of human nature were amplified).
It could be hoped that in a nation at war with every family at risk that every new widow and every other family member would have been surrounded by caring support. Certainly there were some who experienced the comfort of those who had been down this road or who somehow had developed the courage of empathy.
But I have heard just enough to tell me that this was not always the case.
There is something in human nature -- a protective device-- that often tries to distance itself from pain. Any wall that announces that this couldn't happen to the distancer will do. I suspect that in a nation where the possibility of grief hung over every household, the urge to distance was a powerful force. And some who didn't intentionally distance themselves just didn't know what to do. (They hadn't learned that there is nothing to do-- just be there and care).
The result was that young widows sometimes found themselves completely isolated from peer support at a time when that support was most needed.
I know that many from the division tried to reach out individually and as a group after the war. I have heard the stories of how much the visit from a comrade meant. But the every-day local support of friends and neighbors may have been missing early on for some.
This message is especially directed to anyone who experienced or was affected by chilly isolation in a time when a warm hug or simple eye contact was needed -- after the obligatory casseroles were consumed and after the flowers had wilted.
It is decades late. But if it helps in any small way, know that your lonely pain is acknowledged.
Connie