How to Smoke and Drink Your Way Through Grief
On struggling to make sense of a loved one’s death
“What is to give light must endure burning.” —Viktor Frankl, Man’s Search for Meaning
Five stages of grief that flow from source to ocean or lake: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance.
I pondered which stage I was in. I wondered if it was either a circle of grief or a spectrum of grief. Then I decided not to consider it at all. To hell with that, I thought. I will find a bar. I will not think.
I will ignore the void.
One car ride later and I was at a bar. A bar where you could smoke to your heart’s content, buy boiled eggs, and observe and engage until shutdown at 7 a.m. “How quaint!” I thought as I marveled at the Old Style signs and ancient photos. “How fitting!” I thought as I watched the derelict night owls fly from bartender to bathroom, jukebox to dance floor. Who could blame me? Me, myself? Why would I blame myself? I am going through a loss; I am suffering as others suffer. If I find myself hovering over a toilet bowl with a hangover and heaving breath, let it come. As long as I find what I seek, the means matter little to me.
I ordered a beer, got a can filled with water for ash. I lit a cigarette, pulled out my sea-green notebook…
