Angus and Grief
It was 12:01 PM when i wandered into The Aging Matador. The bar was pretty empty at noon and one, but I kind of needed the space to think through some things.
The Bartender was standing by the Bender Bowl. He wordlessly pointed at it, with a curious look in his eyes. I asked for a diet soda instead. His face brightened, he served the fizzy water, sliding a bowl of popcorn in front of me. I nodded that everything was good, so he showed me where I could refill the popcorn bowl, and which button on the beverage handle would dispense more diet soda, should I want more. The he excused himself, attending to some business elsewhere.
Today was the day four years ago that my host sister had died. Cancer is a terrible disease. I was reminded of the fact by my daily calendar rundown while still lying in bed. The memory of that event released a lot of unprocessed emotions. Some for and about her, some about the rest of my host family, and some for my connection to the place where I lived and the country, too.
She was just two months older than me, so she would have turned 50 last month. I will turn 50 at the end of next month.
Mama died in 2015, and mama’s aunt who also lived in the house, died around then. Suddenly, the people I interacted with most were all gone. My older host brother was away often, and working during the day when I was home. My younger brother was a bit snobby and reminded me too much of my own little sister. Papa was always home after a certain time, but his hobbies seemed like a lot of work, frankly.
So, all of my direct connections to Switzerland are now gone. It’s one thing to visit, and introduce myself as Regula’s host brother, and hope that people remember her. It’s quite another to have her with me introducing me as her host-brother.
A connection to a country, though?
Well, lots of stuff happened in 1989-1990. The Swiss rejected a referendum to abolish the Army. The entire Eastern Bloc (or Iron Curtain) was teetering on the edge of extinction. By New Year’s Day 1990, the Berlin Wall was mostly open. Romania executed its President (and his wife), and people started getting nervous. What will happen next? That existential angst is probably what drew my energy connection.
Not just current events, though. Switzerland was about to celebrate its 699th birthday when I left. The sense of the age of Switzerland, and the relative youth of the United States, gave me reason to wonder about some of the national decisions being made. Sometimes, the US position was a little fraught, to be frank…
This is part of a longer anecdote, but I will share what I think are the highlights. My host family lived in a town in central Switzerland. The bishop who oversaw the diocese died, and it was learned that his successor was promised the position years before, due to whatever reason. The fact that a successor was designated before the bishop died seemed to offend many of the folks who lived in the diocese. Background
My host dad was a lay leader in the church where he attended, and he knew some of the history. He said that the components of the diocese, wich included the town where we lived, were “temporarily” assigned to Chur from St. Gallen’s diocese just 300 years ago. Perhaps the temporary assignment could be reversed? A 300 year temporary assignment? Only in a VERY old culture… In the direct example, the offending Bishop was made Archbishop of a BRAND NEW DIOCESE within the previous Chur diocese in Vaduz, Liechtenstein. So, I guess people really hated him enough that the Pope (John Paul II) went to extraordinary lengths…
Anyhow, part of the point is that it sucks lo lose people that meant something to you at one time. It also sucks to lose contact with other people due to your lost connection with that one person. So there’s grief and grieving and regret about not staying in better contact with my host family and then there’s also loss of a connection to a time and place that still sticks out.
I was still staring at my popcorn and diet soda, when I sensed Angus sitting down next to me.
“I’ve seen that look before. If there’s anything you want to talk about, just let me know.”
I looked at my watch: 4:30 PM. My diet soda was flat and warm, and the popcorn bowl still filled, both untouched.
I laughed at the fact that I’d been lost in thought for four hours, with no real potential outlet for the energy that was being addressed. So, I told Angus the high level overview of what I’d been thinking about and dealing with.
The bartender appeared almost if by magic, wordlessly plopping a Bender in front of me, and serving Angus his usual. He pointed curiously at the popcorn. I shook my head, and he took it away.
Angus turned his head to me and said “I think you are doing the right thing. Sometimes, memories and regret and remorse are hurtful. The only way to reduce their power is to face them a little.”
I said “I know I can’t go back and change anything about what has happened in my life. Yet, I can perhaps make some changes in how I deal with other people, places, and things in my life. Maybe that can help me avoid making the same mistakes, that would lead me to regrets.”
Angus took this in for a minute, then said, “There’s no right technique for dealing with grief and remorse. There is only personal experience.” (I could have sworn I heard a zen bell ring.) He continued, “There’s no point in trying to change your attitude or approach based on how others view you. You’d be shocked how quickly people forget about you once you aren’t in the everyday anymore. So, make changes based on helping reduce your personal suffering and not on an attempt to redeem yourself in someone else’s estimation.”
It was now just past five, and the place was filling up. I was happy to see people laughing and enjoying their time together again. Yet, I was really not in the mood to deal with the noise. So, I finished my Bender, laying enough cash on the bar to cover the drinks and a tip. I then stood and clapped Angus on the shoulder.
“Angus, my actions in this moment may not portray my appreciation toward you. Yet, I am entirely in your debt for reminding me about what I owe to others and what I do not. That is the world to me. Thank you.”
He raised his glass while looking me in the eye, “Friendship!”
Indeed.