I Need Comfort, not a Bandaid

Over the past couple of days, I have realized the power in those who comfort you after a loss. When we experience loss, all of varying severity, we mourn. No amount of chocolate or music can help. Being in the company of others can help, but it is merely a distraction.  Each rhetorical situation presents its own challenges, and there is not a guideline on how to go about overcoming them. It takes time and practice. We cannot anticipate certain events; we can only deal with them as they come.

To my first loss I apply the unpredictability of rhetoric wholeheartedly. We all change overtime, and our arguments reflect this. Take the rhetoric in a break-up. It can either be very smooth, or so pitiful to cause an individual to take unhealthy actions to regain what is lost. However, during a break-up the original argument of why they are leaving their partner tends to mutate according to the counter-arguments. We are usually left feeling as though the whole argument itself has been one contradictory after the next. As time passes, reasons for the break-up change. We are never certain what the real reason is, or how to go on in life alone.  It all depends on how we are comforted. The “you’ll get over it,” and “there are plenty of fish in the sea!” do not usually suffice.  That is poor rhetoric. There needs to be substance in the words that help us take that step forward. In a world that is spinning, words are our path back to reality. Words heal the pain.  Once an engagement is broken, we question the legitimacy of every word that we hear. We question its value, and consequently lose focus. We depend on the words of others to aid us, and the value of those words impact us in more ways than we could ever imagine.

Now if you are as unlucky as I have been, sometimes life throws a double loss your way. The loss of a family member can push you over the edge. At first, we do not want to hear the word sorry, or even accept the death itself. This situation is challenging on others as well, for sometimes their words do not fit our pain. Situational awareness is needed. Sometimes we can only open up to those who have gone through similar trials in life. Their pathos crosses over to us, and gives us a step in the right direction once again.  Our healing depends on the words of others. Alone it is nearly impossible to move forward, and those who try to force it never fully recover.  

Loss is difficult. Loss is painful, to say the least. Loss needs the comfort through rhetoric.  Loss needs a friendly rhetor.