5 ms·

The Appropriate Weight of Grief – Men, Cats, and the Writing Life

39 points by iamben 10y ago

JadeNB 10y ago
Grieving for a lost friend, whether cat, dog, human, or otherwise, is a profound process, and it should not be rushed, measured, or compared against any standard. I'm not sure that I understand the impulse to make the process public, but nor would I tell someone that his or her grief must be private, or kept only among a small group. I do wonder about the need to tie it into gender, though. I (a man) cried, sobbed, bawled when my cat died, in the vet's office, and later in private with my wife, and nothing in anyone's reactions suggested to me that there was anything inappropriate about my doing so. I believe, and hope, that, if a man feels that it is inappropriate for him to show emotion, then that says more about his own self-perception of manhood than about others' perceptions of him. (This is not meant as a criticism of the author, but as good news of a sort: if I am right, then he need only liberate himself from his self-imposed strictures, rather than fighting against the censure of a broader society.)
- asimuvPR 10y ago
  Sorry about your cat.
- p4wnc6 10y ago
  > if a man feels that it is inappropriate for him to show emotion, then that says more about his own self-perception of manhood than about others' perceptions of him Not really. There is still an enormous amount of regressive social pressure heaped on men to never show or admit weakness, not even with a spouse or close friend, and crying is one of the most widely stigmatized actions within this framework of pressure.
- Xcelerate 10y ago
  > and nothing in anyone's reactions suggested to me that there was anything inappropriate about my doing so. Then luckily for you, you know people who are very different than some of the people I know. Off the top of my head, I can name at least five men who would make fun of another man for crying over the death of a cat. It's well known that the rate of completed suicides for men is far higher than that for women (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gender_differences_in_suicide https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gender_differences_in_suicide). I suspect a lot of this comes down to the fact that society expects men to be tough and hide their emotions, and thus there is more of a stigma attached to them getting the help that they need. Personally, one of the saddest things I've seen related to the death of an animal (and not just any animal, but a goose, which I'm normally not too fond of since one chased me when I was little). I was visiting my father's work one day, and I saw a single goose standing alone in the parking lot, looking confused. My dad told me that there had been a flock of geese, and one of the geese was standing in the road. A car with a driver who was clearly annoyed (or psychopathic) had sped up and intentionally killed the goose standing in the way of his car. There was a dark patch on the road where the goose had been struck. As you may know, geese tend to mate for life, and when the rest of the flock had moved on, this goose's partner remained behind. I don't know if the goose knew that its partner was dead (as opposed to lost), but the way it just stood there barely moving was one of the saddest things I've ever seen.
Udo 10y ago
Matching other people's expectations about grief is a fool's errant, and I completely understand the impulse to just hide it - in fact, I believe that's a good default plan. When my mother died from cancer, there were two extreme reactions from immediate family and friends: the first group believed that I was no longer a functioning human being and needed acute help, the second group told me a few days after her death that I should be over it by now since parents die and everybody is fine with that. The interesting part is, both reactions happened without me knowingly showing any outward signs of extreme grief, I had simply told them I needed some time to myself. I'm very very glad that I didn't try to make people "understand" how I felt at the time. When my cat got sick and died from congestive heart failure two years ago, some of the reactions I got were "I bet you failed to take care of her properly and that's why she died", and "whatever, just get a new one, they're interchangeable". Again, I didn't communicate to the outside how I felt, because it's utterly pointless. If people react like that without any data, I can only speculate how bad and besides the point things would have gotten had I actually opened up about it. As soon as you grieve publicly, people will start telling you how to move on and why your grief is inappropriate. But grief is not for other people to participate in the first place, it's a personal experience. Especially when it's a pet (and the male cat owner is probably the most stigmatised culturally), many friends and family won't understand, and it can't be your mission to make them understand. In my opinion, being outwardly stoic while grieving is almost always the best option for everybody involved.
- dano 10y ago
  Hi Udo - in complete agreement here. In my own grief I grew to understand that the path is different and that those who have not experienced death simply do not understand. On occasions I'm reminded to forgive those around me who don't get it. I made new and lasting friends out of those who provided support and consolation at the right time, and lost people who were superficially friends. Recently while reading Shakespeare I came across Constance's statement on Grief from King John which expressed to me how persistent grief can be. Constance: Grief fills the room up of my absent child, Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me, Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words, Remembers me of all his gracious parts, Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form; Then, have I reason to be fond of grief? Fare you well: had you such a loss as I, I could give better comfort than you do. I will not keep this form upon my head, When there is such disorder in my wit. O Lord! my boy, my Arthur, my fair son! My life, my joy, my food, my all the world! My widow-comfort, and my sorrows' cure! For those pets, parents, grandparents, and others that have passed, I continue to miss them, perhaps more than I should. Don't we all?

39 points by iamben 10y ago

Grieving for a lost friend, whether cat, dog, human, or otherwise, is a profound process, and it should not be rushed, measured, or compared against any standard. I'm not sure that I understand the impulse to make the process public, but nor would I tell someone that his or her grief must be private, or kept only among a small group. I do wonder about the need to tie it into gender, though. I (a man) cried, sobbed, bawled when my cat died, in the vet's office, and later in private with my wife, and nothing in anyone's reactions suggested to me that there was anything inappropriate about my doing so. I believe, and hope, that, if a man feels that it is inappropriate for him to show emotion, then that says more about his own self-perception of manhood than about others' perceptions of him. (This is not meant as a criticism of the author, but as good news of a sort: if I am right, then he need only liberate himself from his self-imposed strictures, rather than fighting against the censure of a broader society.)

asimuvPR 10y ago
Sorry about your cat.
p4wnc6 10y ago
> if a man feels that it is inappropriate for him to show emotion, then that says more about his own self-perception of manhood than about others' perceptions of him Not really. There is still an enormous amount of regressive social pressure heaped on men to never show or admit weakness, not even with a spouse or close friend, and crying is one of the most widely stigmatized actions within this framework of pressure.
Xcelerate 10y ago
> and nothing in anyone's reactions suggested to me that there was anything inappropriate about my doing so. Then luckily for you, you know people who are very different than some of the people I know. Off the top of my head, I can name at least five men who would make fun of another man for crying over the death of a cat. It's well known that the rate of completed suicides for men is far higher than that for women (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gender_differences_in_suicide https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gender_differences_in_suicide). I suspect a lot of this comes down to the fact that society expects men to be tough and hide their emotions, and thus there is more of a stigma attached to them getting the help that they need. Personally, one of the saddest things I've seen related to the death of an animal (and not just any animal, but a goose, which I'm normally not too fond of since one chased me when I was little). I was visiting my father's work one day, and I saw a single goose standing alone in the parking lot, looking confused. My dad told me that there had been a flock of geese, and one of the geese was standing in the road. A car with a driver who was clearly annoyed (or psychopathic) had sped up and intentionally killed the goose standing in the way of his car. There was a dark patch on the road where the goose had been struck. As you may know, geese tend to mate for life, and when the rest of the flock had moved on, this goose's partner remained behind. I don't know if the goose knew that its partner was dead (as opposed to lost), but the way it just stood there barely moving was one of the saddest things I've ever seen.

Udo 10y ago

Matching other people's expectations about grief is a fool's errant, and I completely understand the impulse to just hide it - in fact, I believe that's a good default plan. When my mother died from cancer, there were two extreme reactions from immediate family and friends: the first group believed that I was no longer a functioning human being and needed acute help, the second group told me a few days after her death that I should be over it by now since parents die and everybody is fine with that. The interesting part is, both reactions happened without me knowingly showing any outward signs of extreme grief, I had simply told them I needed some time to myself. I'm very very glad that I didn't try to make people "understand" how I felt at the time. When my cat got sick and died from congestive heart failure two years ago, some of the reactions I got were "I bet you failed to take care of her properly and that's why she died", and "whatever, just get a new one, they're interchangeable". Again, I didn't communicate to the outside how I felt, because it's utterly pointless. If people react like that without any data, I can only speculate how bad and besides the point things would have gotten had I actually opened up about it. As soon as you grieve publicly, people will start telling you how to move on and why your grief is inappropriate. But grief is not for other people to participate in the first place, it's a personal experience. Especially when it's a pet (and the male cat owner is probably the most stigmatised culturally), many friends and family won't understand, and it can't be your mission to make them understand. In my opinion, being outwardly stoic while grieving is almost always the best option for everybody involved.

dano 10y ago
Hi Udo - in complete agreement here. In my own grief I grew to understand that the path is different and that those who have not experienced death simply do not understand. On occasions I'm reminded to forgive those around me who don't get it. I made new and lasting friends out of those who provided support and consolation at the right time, and lost people who were superficially friends. Recently while reading Shakespeare I came across Constance's statement on Grief from King John which expressed to me how persistent grief can be. Constance: Grief fills the room up of my absent child, Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me, Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words, Remembers me of all his gracious parts, Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form; Then, have I reason to be fond of grief? Fare you well: had you such a loss as I, I could give better comfort than you do. I will not keep this form upon my head, When there is such disorder in my wit. O Lord! my boy, my Arthur, my fair son! My life, my joy, my food, my all the world! My widow-comfort, and my sorrows' cure! For those pets, parents, grandparents, and others that have passed, I continue to miss them, perhaps more than I should. Don't we all?