The Thing About Mourning

My wife’s mother passed away last Monday. She was 82 and died in her sleep, so from her point of view, she made a smooth transition into the afterlife. The funeral is now over; and her body has been consigned to the vultures – in accordance with Zoroastrian tradition. My wife, Aban, and I are now officially in mourning.

The trouble is, I don’t feel particularly sad – and neither does my wife. Don’t get me wrong. She was very attached to her mom. For the last four years of her life, the old lady needed constant medical attention; and her mind was only a faint shadow of its former agile avatar. We (Aban and I) voluntarily - and with only the faintest of heartburn – contributed to the considerable cost of a full time health care worker. We visited her every Saturday and Aban made a valiant effort to engage her in conversation; although it was often a painstaking ordeal and, frankly, beyond my capabilities and patience. All in all, the old lady did not have much of a life. So when she slipped her mortal coil, it was probably as much of a relief for her as it was a mixed blessing for us. According to form, however, we were expected to be miserable – or at least, act like it.

The prescribed format for mourning stipulates no playing of music, or switching on the television for at least 10 days; and preferably for a month. Then there are strictures against eating meat on certain days. Some bereaved families, who are really into it, encourage condolence visits. These are mind deadening affairs where relatives and friends show up with long faces; and the immediate family members of the deceased take an almost ghoulish delight in relating the circumstances of the loved one’s death in excruciating detail.

This is the part that annoys me. Why should there be a prescribed format at all? In my opinion, grief is an intensely personal and private emotion. I don’t need any religious tome, or priest, to tell me how I should mourn; and for how long. And what if I do feel like playing music before the tenth day? Will my mom in-law mind, or even care? Or will she be too preoccupied meeting long absent family members and adjusting to her new life in the spirit world. The only people who would object would be the neighbours, who would regard us as being heartless and devoid of feeling. How do they know how we feel?

Once again, at the risk of sounding heartless, I don’t feel like mourning. More to the point, the daughter of the deceased – after recovering from the initial shock, has not given in to a sustained orgy of weeping and wailing. I applaud her for it. For sure, if a family member is snatched away unexpectedly in his or her prime, it can be gut wrenching. But what is the logic behind weeping for someone who has lived out kher four score years?

If an individual has lived a fairly righteous life on earth, she would be entitled to her reward in heaven, right? And heaven is a wonderful place, right? Peace and light and resurrection and all that good stuff. In other words, Aban’s mom has left behind the last four years of pain and suffering; and is now, presumably, reunited with her husband and loved ones who have passed on before her. She is at peace and happy. So, if anything, it is cause for celebration – not an orgy of public grief.

Aban and I have said our goodbyes. We have come to terms with her empty bedroom; and given away her serviceable belongings to charity. After having witnessed her pitiable physical condition during the last four years, we rejoice in the thought that she has now shed all her ailments and is back in her prime. We are not going to put on a show of mourning, just because society expects us to. The music has commenced playing; and we are smiling again. We are not going to allow "society" and priests to be our conscience keepers. If they don’t approve, they can go to hell in a basket.