Purses, Parties, Conferences: On Mourning the Little Things During a Pandemic

There's a purse I ordered about three months ago; it fits easily over a suitcase, it's nice-looking, and it came recommended. In the first year in my job, I flew abroad for work seven times. The bag was my reward for a job well-done. It was functional, without being too much. An indulgent gift, at just the right level.

My beautiful (I imagine) bag sits in my parents' home, untouched. I wish I could have it, even though I don't really need a work bag these days.

Yesterday was my son's best pal's birthday. He turned six. It should have been a really fun day, with a party to look forward to, and even the little brother excited. Instead, we took a quick video of my boy wishing him a happy birthday, and that this corona passes soon, so they can play together once again. I wish they could play together, now.

I was supposed to go to Austin in March, and my (wonderful) manager offered for us to check out some SXSW events. It would have been a great opportunity to grow, personally? Professionally? I'll never know. The trip, where I would have picked up my bag, was canceled. I also missed the (canceled) wedding of a dear friend. I wish I had been at the wedding, wish I could have picked which SXSW sessions to attend.

None of these losses are huge. My job is safe, for now at least, and we have enough resources. No one in our family has so far suffered major loss from this plague.

But somehow, every time I hear someone expressing pain about a loss--it is always cast as "not worthy". 

What I want to say, with absolutely no authority, is this: pain is valid. It doesn't have to be the worst pain in the world to be valid. You are allowed to mourn the little things, even now, when a global pandemic rages. 

It is ok to miss the trip you couldn't take, the meal you couldn't go out for despite making reservations. I give you, and me, permission to miss the little things as much as we miss the big ones. We as humans don't just mourn the big losses, even when we've experienced them. I can wish I could have my bag, even though I've been through things one million times harder. You can hold multiple truths at the same time. We all contain multitudes.

I leave you with this observation from the brilliant Meg Keene, commenting on a question someone sent in on her wedding advice website (her writing is worth reading, whatever the topic). The letter writer's husband had almost died at their wedding, and while she was glad he was alive, she was also sad she missed her wedding, a relatively "small thing":

"We actually had a big conversation in our office about the terrible-ness of the suffering olympics when this question came in. When my dad fell WALKING HIS DOG, and got a terrible brain injury, and I had to drop everything to care for him (while caring for two kids and running a business) for three months, and then he suddenly died anyway from hospital mismanagement I kept like I needed to say like, "Well it could have been worse."

WELL LIKE YEAH. EVERYTHING COULD BE WORSE. That's what survivor's guilt is. Even people who survive the worst atrocities known to human kind are like "it could have been worse, because I survived and other people didn't."

And I feel like we're in this place in liberal feminist culture where we feel EXTRA responsibility to disclaim all of the reasons that things could be worse and we have privilege at every moment. And those things are true. And we know those things. And in big picture political conversations we should really consider them. My dad had insurance. I want everyone to have insurance. California has paid family leave. I want everyone to have paid family leave. I can go on and on.

But there is a time to put that aside I think, too. It's call grief, and grieving, and we're all human and we all deserve to have it in it's pure rawness. My dad DIED and he should be alive right now playing with his grandkids and talking politics with me and he's NOT. The LW's husband almost DIED and it was horrific and traumatic (I've been in those asthma attack car rides with my son, and they are trauma that will live in my soul forever.) And she should have had a WEDDING and she didn't.

So fuck all the mitigating circumstances right now, fuck the "who has it worse", fuck the "I'm so privileged that I even have this problem." FUCK ALL OF IT. Something terrible happened when you should have been experiencing one of your greatest joys, and I am SO SORRY, and we see you, and please just let yourself feel whatever you need to feel, and not pick yourself back up till you're ready and then do LITERALLY WHATEVER you and your partner want to do.

I'm sorry sister. The world is a hard damn place, and I'm sorry this happened to you, and I see you."