Meghan O'Rourke (born 1976 in Brooklyn, New York) is an American nonfiction writer, poet and critic.
I have seen that grief can be very different for different people. While the range of emotions experienced is similar, the way we deal with those emotions isn't, necessarily.
I wasn't prepared for the fact that grief is so unpredictable. It wasn't just sadness, and it wasn't linear. Somehow I'd thought that the first days would be the worst and then it would get steadily better - like getting over the flu. That's not how it was.
Time doesn’t obey our commands. You cannot make it holy just because it is disappearing.
I think about my mother every day. But usually the thoughts are fleeting - she crosses my mind like a spring cardinal that flies past the edge of your eye: startling, luminous, lovely. . . gone.
We have an idea - a very modern idea - that dying is undignified. But I think this is because we have the illusion that we can control our bodies and our fates.
One of the ideas I've clung to most of my life is that if I just try hard enough it will work out.
What had happened still seemed implausible. A person was present your entire life, and then one day she disappeared and never came back. It resisted belief.
A mother, after all, is your entry into the world. She is the shell in which you divide and become a life. Waking up in a world without her is like waking up in a world without sky: unimaginable.
One of the things about grief is that it can bring a deeper perspective into your life; in the end, it has, for me, though it's also brought sorrow.
Be patient with yourself. Don't make the loss harder by thinking you should be a certain way, or have bounced back, etc.
Many grievers experience intense yearning or longing after a death - more than they experience, say, denial.
I live to collect information, and I am also a perfectionist.
My theory is this: Women falter when they're called on to be highly self-conscious about their talents. Not when they're called on to enact them.
There is always tension in women's gymnastics between athleticism, grace, performance, and eros.
This is part of the complexity of grief: A piece of you recognizes it is an extreme state, an altered state, yet a large part of you is entirely subject to its demands.
Faith does help mourners survive their loss, some studies suggest; but I imagine one still struggles.
And after my mother's death I became more open to and empathetic about other people's struggles and losses.
A mother is the portal by which you enter the world.
Suddenly it was fall, the season of death, the anniversary of things-going-to-hell.
'Hamlet' is a play about a man whose grief is deemed unseemly.