Experiencing Grief, by John Ostrander
Muriel Kubert, Joe Kubert’s wife, died last week. You may have seen the story here at ComicMix . I went to the services. When I saw Joe, I asked him how he was doing (the same lame question most of us ask of those who have lost someone vital to them). He shrugged and said, “You know.” Then he looked me in the eye and repeated, “You know.”
I do. Kimberly Ann Yale, my own wife, died over eleven years ago, something that I’ve talked about more than once in this column. It strikes me that we don’t really talk about the grieving process much. It’s been studied and Dr. Elizabeth Kubler-Ross charted its stages, noting them as shock, denial, anger, bargaining, depression, testing and acceptance. That’s certainly useful in an intellectual way but I don’t know as it really prepares you for the emotional impact.
We don’t like to talk about grief. I didn’t, before Kim died. It’s death. It’s scary. If Death hears us talking about it, maybe it’ll come over to hear what we’re saying. That doesn’t make sense but that is sometimes how it feels. Emotion has its own logic. If we don’t talk about it, maybe Death will go away. Knock on some other door.
Grief is something that should be talked about. The only person with whom to really discuss it is someone who has been through it. Not someone who is going through it at the time; they’re trying to make sense of everything and it won’t make sense. It has to be someone who has come out the other side.
A little more than twenty years ago there was, briefly, a smart satiric SF TV series called Max Headroom
My Aunt Helen turned 101 years old last weekend. Let me repeat that – my Aunt Helen is 101 years old. She beat her own father’s record, who died a mere six months after turning 100. She still lives in her own apartment, with help especially from my sister, Marge. Helen gave up smoking only a few years ago but she still has her drink now and then. She gets to church when she feels the urge. Big Cubs fan, even though they haven’t won a World Series since she was born. I kid Helen that she intends to hang on until they win another one if it takes another hundred years.
How’s this for a concept of a superhero? A guy who is strong, can leap maybe a mile but doesn’t fly, and only a bursting cannon shell can puncture his skin. He is on the outs with the government, the local representatives of whom may be corrupt. He’s on the side of the “little guy” who otherwise may not have a chance against the Big Interests. He dangles neer-do-wells by one foot high in the air and threatens to drop them unless they co-operate – and he laughs while he’s doing it. The guy may be more than a little crazy.
Samuel Keith Larsen recently popped me a question on 
