A while ago I’ve read in a book (misplaced already somewhere under tons of others) that there is a gain in every loss. Or a blessing. Or something like that, cannot quote it just right, but at that time it blew my mind. I’ve heard of this concept before – the entire Christian dogma is based on it, but I am not quite sure why it never clicked with my heart before. It must have been this book, a self-help book written in a style I could never admire or follow due to the heavy commercial stanza, with the author’s pic on the cover, glowing like a stylish well-groomed modern woman on whose face I would have otherwise never been able to detect crumbles of pain, sufferance, and wisdom <->That was a long sentence, one would never find such thing in the book I am talking about. It’s like taking a just barely out of the oven country bread and trying to fit it on a gourmet menu. Oh well, why gourmet? It’s just that I didn’t have another idea for comparison and it doesn’t mean a bit that country is inferior to gourmet; it means that trying to squeeze into shapes and transform a breathing thing such as a country bread into a saleable speech it was the perfect recipe to make people like me click with the kitsch-ness of it. The Ecclesiast didn’t do it – I still rebell against its infinite truth and wisdom. Milan Kundera didn’t do it – I will always cry for Tereza and Sabina. Nichita Stanescu didn’t do it either – I still think that if he would have met the right woman, he would have stopped drinking and save us all with his poetry. My own losses didn’t do shit for me either – I want them all back, no matter how bad the lively presences were. It had to be this ridiculous, pathetic, heart breaking, tender, annoyingly simple, beautiful and ugly, kitschy wisdomish (yeah, it’s not a word, so what) book.
I don’t know.
But I can speculate.
…that what we have here is a matter of survival. This conceptualized idea of an existing good side in every bad situation switches our brain focus to the prey at hand while saving otherwise wasted energy on dwelling on the kill that got away.
I don’t know what it is like to lose a child, but I know what it is like to lose everybody else and everything else. And the thing is, I wouldn’t dare telling “there is a gain in each loss” to a mother who lost her child, but somehow I am emotionally numb when it comes to say condolences to one who lost his parent(s).
I am thinking…if my mother would return to life now and we shall meet, what would we say to each other? I am a grown woman; she would practically be a stranger to me. I haven’t seen her in 15 years. Where is the gain in this loss though?
Writing this note it feels like a déjà vu, like I wrote this before and somehow lost it several times.