On Fairness of Life and Jennifer Anniston's Tears -

I knew that something grave was about to be revealed on the Today show when the usually and unbearably perky Katie Couric appeared on the screen all solemn and teary. She began her announcement in this manner: "Every once in a while a story comes along that kicks you in the gut, makes you think how unfair life is. This is such a story: last night Dana Reeve died of lung cancer, aged 44. "
Dana Reeve would have been just another name if she hadn't become first "Superman's wife," then "Superman's widow." She stuck by her paralyzed man until his last day, a picture of love and devotion, remaining in the spotlight even after his death as a very successful fundraiser for the spinal cord injuries research. I saw a couple of interviews with her in which she came across warm, wise, wonderful ... I've been thinking about Reeves' son: how can he possibly cope with his tremendeous loss.

I realize that in war-torn countries thousands of parentless children are an everyday reality that no one seems to pay a lot of attention to. I am not so shallow, inexperienced and innocent as not to have known before Dana dying that our world is a sad and unfair place. Dana knew it, too. She said: "you have to realize early on that life is unfair; the trick is to like it in spite of this and to make whatever you can to make it a bit fairer."

Dana's death would not have affected me so much were it not for enormous losses that some people very dear to me had suffered in the last month or so. First it was my sis-in-law's father, then J's father, then - the most shocking of all - D's father, dying in a motorcycle crash on Sunday. Now, the last one is truly heart-breaking: a hardworking man who never had any proper long vacation is finally talked into taking some time off and going on vacation with his wife; he buys a motorcycle off E-bay; he and wife drive to Arizona, stay at a 'snowbirds' trailer park; he drives down to California to pick up the bike; the wife waits for his return to join a few other couples in a cross-country scenic ride; he never makes it back; the motorcycle throws him off, he dies, never takes his wife on a long-awaited vacation. His body lies somewhere in the Orange County, his wife and daughter left with the burden of looking after 'things.' I keep thinking about Alanis bloody Morisette and her "Isn't it ironic"? It is, as it is heartbreaking.

One second is all it takes for your life to go all upside down. I was with D at a party the night before her father's crash: she was exuberant, chatty, flirty, talked how happy she was for her parents... The next day a phone call changes her whole life and inevitably herself. She's now a citizen of a sadder tireder nation and she'll never be able to reclaim her former citizenzhip in a happier land.

That famous line from "The Road less Traveled" teaches us:" life is difficult. Once you accept this, it becomes much easier." What becomes much easier, I wonder? Does it mean you lower your expectations so you don't suffer the agony of disappointment? Or is it that each life's blow that doesn't kill you makes you stronger? All I can say for certain is that once you go through a horrendous experience that shakes you to the core and makes you doubt your sanity, your reality, your whole universe, ... you're better equipped to cope with other lesser calamities. What's the pain of not getting the job you wanted compared to the pain of receving that dreaded "death in the family" phonecall ? How does finding out that your salary has been cut down compare to being informed at the airpot that your mother passed away? Simply, ti doesn't.

Unless death is involved, no matter how difficult a situation you find yourself in, you can always start plotting and scheming to get yourself out of it. You lose your job, get all upset and worried but you still hope to find a better one. Your relationship ends; for a while you agonize, but eventually a new love comes along, or you simply begin loving your singledom. You have an argument with a friend, you're smarting for a long time, but in the end things are either straightened out between you, or you realize that your friend is not who you thought her to be.

But, what happens when someone you love dies? There is no hope, no miracle, no total moving on. The pain becomes an integral part of you; you carry it with you at all times as if you had grown a sick fifth limb that's very defficient in design, its sole anatomical function to plague you at most inopportune of times. There's no surgery and no qualified surgeon to cut it off. Luckily, there are many pain killers, their side effects ranging from very gentle to irrevocably destructive. Your fifth limb needs ocassional applications of analgesics, be they destructive as gluttony, debauchery, alcohol, drugs, or of a somewhat more holistic approach nature as deep breathing, self-hypnosis, going for a natural high... You undergo these treatments to numb that dull nagging pain in your sick limb. It works, for a while at least, or sometimes even for a long while. You're fooled into thinking that you're just about to reach the shores of that 'before this happened' land. Alas, an unexpected gust of wind blows you back where you were before the treatment - and you're left with no option other than resume to it again and perhaps even increase the dosage or duration.

I don't think that I look at the world with sad bitter eyes, in spite of what I've written above. I simply acknowledge the inevitability of pain in life and importance of allowing ourselves to grieve and feel sad about what happens to us. It's not a character flow, it's a human trait. I remember Jennifer Anniston ridiculed and called a 'crybaby' for having lost her cool in an interview, shedding bitter tears over her failed marriage. The woman suffered a tremendous loss, she was spurned and humiliated in public, she lost the love of her life'... god forbid that she should have cried?!. What was she supposed to do? Just laugh it off? What's the worth of human feelings if they can change overnight? "Yes, honey, you were my world yesterday, I couldn't imagine my life without you. But, today, I don't really care, hahahaaha." ?!?!? Is that what she should have said to be applauded for courage? I admire her for having the guts to show what she really felt in this world of cookie-cutter feelings and expectations.

I am getting sick and tired of the "move on, be strong, chin-up" approach. I think that a lot of businesses would go out of [well...] business, if people stop buying into this "all is possible if you try hard and don't cry attitude." What would be the purpose of all the shrinks, self-help books, anti-depressant makers, religious leaders, plastic surgeons etc., if we were to start believing that some things will, can and even should never change, that life is indeed damn hard, being human is painful, and it is damn o.k. to feel sorry for yourself and the world in general whenever you need to?

I don't propose for anyone who's had bad stuff happen to them (and that's more or less everyone, sooner or later) to just curl themselves into balls of misery and contemplate the unfairness of life. Far from it. We must gather courage and strength to function normally and live as productively and with as much joy as possible. We are equipped with this strength, and were it not so our civilization would have gone down the drain a long time ago - together with tears that once were allowed to flow freely and were also the subject of beautiful poetry. It is not strength that bothers me - it is pretending to have more of it than you as a human bieng could possibly have that reallly gets to me.

I'm simply saying that nothing is wrong with admitting to our weaknesses, doubts, pains, imbalances. Humans are the only species that can shed tears of joy and pain (or so say biologists at the present moment in natural sciences). To condemn tears is to condemn being human. So, Jennifer, I wish you had not felt the need to apologize for yours.