I just read an article in the New Yorker magazine about trauma. As always, the article was dense, literary, and full of references, some of which I knew and some of which I did not. In simplified form it said that the basis of many books, movies and television programs today seems to rest on the past trauma of the lead character, which is given out in snippets as the story unfolds.
I am sure that most of us who have spent a number of decades on this earth, have some tragic events that are lodged in our past and may still surface frequently or not so frequently as time passes. I do not make light of this.
However, my example of how to face difficult events of the past rests with my paternal grandmother. She had both a husband and a son in the military. She lost the first leaving her with three very small children, the oldest of whom was my father. Then in turn she lost him over the skies of northern China during World War II. While I knew these two well-loved people in her life were with her forever in her thoughts, she lived always in the present, Being with her was always an adventure, from going to the local cafeteria for lunch where we would make up stories about the lives of the hair-netted ladies behind the counter ladling out our macaroni and cheese, to taking a bus to visit a friend with three changes of vehicles which she had me figure out from the posted time table. We made it and I was left with a feeling of eight-year-old pride and accomplishment.
When she spoke of those no longer with us, it was of some accomplishment, or an amusing tale, or a character trait that she admired. When I was learning to drive, which she oversaw by making me negotiate traffic in downtown Washington, DC, I had a tendency to pass too closely to things on my right. She assured me I was like my grandfather who had had great depth perception. I do not know if this was true or not, but the net result was that I watched my right-hand side more carefully while not feeling diminished at all by the criticism. I would be fine if I were like this treasured man who rested forever beside my grandmother.
I hope for myself that the things that are in my lengthy past in no way diminish the joys of the present. I hope I can be like that grandmother who lived with her grief, while embracing the joys of the present. Her example continues to be a great gift and I do not want to waste it.