When Non Attachment Feels Like Denial

A friend of mine just died. He’s a very dear friend whom I’ve known since college. His wife has been one of my closest friends since high school. I last saw them at my son’s bar mitzvah in June. I spent last Labor Day weekend at their beach home. He and I were in constant contact this past year since he was a lawyer and had been helping me with a personal matter. He was dynamic, hilarious, dry and sarcastic AF, and larger than life. Everyone loved him and with good reason.

I came home from yoga this morning to six missed calls from a friend. It was clear from syllable one that there was something horribly wrong. Never in the widest reaches of my imagination could I have guessed that this person had a sudden heart attack while on a business trip. I hear this terrible news at 7:50 am. It’s now 11:15 and I have yet to shed a tear. I don’t even feel sad. I think I am just in complete shock. My emotions seem to be hiding right now. My body feels heavy and frozen, my head like cement, but words like sad, broken, destroyed, and grief stricken are not yet applicable. I am wondering if I’m in denial. Though not my typical go to reaction, denial is always on the emotional buffet. How could it be that my dear friend dropped dead and I haven’t lost it yet? I know it will come but it’s been a curious thing to observe as I sit here nailed to my couch. I started writing this because my fingers are the only mobile parts of my body right now. My son needed me this morning and I said, “I can’t help you right now, my friend just died”, as robotically as if I’d just reported the weather. I am a deeply emotional and reactive creature; why have my feelings abandoned me? I’m wondering if all the Buddhism I’ve been studying about non attachment is kicking in. But I don’t think I really shifted into monk mode that easily, and non attachment doesn’t mean you can’t cry. I do know that the human need to dissect, question, and understand the why/how/when is a fruitless yet natural exercise. No amount of questioning and cries of him being too young are going to return his body in this lifetime. We dig ourselves into tremendous, bottomless holes with the Whys. It’s a form of instinctive masochism. The need to make sense, to deny the senseless it’s inherent nature. Was he sick? Was it the altitude? Let’s just say the answer is “yes, he was sick. And it was the altitude”. No one is finding solace in these facts. It’s just information that has no calming effect on a grieving heart. The heart doesn’t care about geographical coordinates or how much a person smoked. It just wants its person back. It wants to not feel debilitating devastation. It wants relief from the pain. The heart wants relief and the mind craves normalcy. We react by chasing the wind. The solace we want is uncatchable because it’s formless. Only form can be caught and momentarily grasped. And like all other forms the body isn’t ours to keep forever. While my zen practice has to be factoring in here in regard to my lack of reactivity, I suspect I haven’t processed this whatsoever. I have no idea how to be there for my friend and her children right now. I don’t know what to do or say. It’s not about me in any way but I’m trying to think of how I can serve her. I haven’t processed that she’s a widow at 41, that her three small children no longer have their daddy. I want all my friends to have beautiful, joyful lives. Is this possible for her anymore?? They have been a couple for decades. A good, solid couple who have tremendous respect for each other. They’re incredible parents. I cannot fathom having to parent alone, though people do it all the time. While we want to not get weighed down by the loss of the physical body since it comes attached to overwhelming suffering, is it really as simple as trusting that God knows when it’s time for a human to transition? If so then why were we designed with the capacity to drown in grief, to cry oceans, and to practically hear our hearts cracking? What is the point of the human emotional range if feelings are just hurdles to jump over in order to reach that true place of non attachment? It almost seems cruel. Again, these are more Whys that aren’t helpful or comforting.

While my current state isn’t denial in the sense that I’m denying the reality of this nightmare, there’s clearly some kind of blockage. He was too important to me, too loved. I haven’t yet grasped the loss. We are all going to die. You know this of course. It’s not this horrible punishment, it’s simply the way it is. We come into this world knowing we will exit at a certain point unbeknownst to us. We die more every day. It is nature. It’s not out to get us. It just is.

I didn’t just lose my husband or the father of my children. Her reality is different from mine. This is not anything I’d say to someone in the throes of grief, but I’m indeed wondering if I’m in an unprocessed state or have I come to further accept the idea of death? It’s probably both. We are always many things at once. I’m going to be patient with my emotions. They don’t need coaxing, they’ll descend upon me when they’re ready. I’ll allow them their stay until I gently extricate myself from them. Whatever arises will also fall away. Everything in life is just doing its job. My personal challenge will be to do my job as a friend who can best be a source of whatever it is she needs. To not assume I’m the one who knows what that is. To bring a lot less of Me to the situation. I’m comfortable with my lack of tears. I’m not resisting their absence. I’m certainly no less distraught and heartbroken. I loved him dearly. I hope he tells me how I can be there for his family. I’ll do whatever he wants and knows is best for them. He can reach me anytime. Ah ok, here they come. The tears. Those last few lines were the invitation they were waiting for. My tears are in good company today. There are millions being shed for him. He was always that guy who brought everyone together.