I think the Victorians were on to something with all their etiquette surrounding death. They had mourning periods and all manner of customs for people to follow after the death of a loved one. Granted, some of them were particularly onerous, especially concerning women, but the overall idea was sound because it acknowledged death and helped everyone understand what role they played. It also acknowledged that grieving takes time. Sometimes, lots of it. Queen Victoria, for instance, never really got over the loss of her husband, Albert, and she lived another 40 years.

All this popped into my head the other day as I was getting weepy over a picture of my wife, although truth be told, I can get weepy over almost anything. Right now, as I’m typing this, I can feel tears welling up in my eyes. Very strange, but normal, I’m told. Anyway, as I look at myself, I know I’m in mourning, but to the world at large, it’s as though nothing happened. I’m just a guy walking along. I wish we still wore hats, then I could have a black band. Maybe, I can start wearing baseball caps again, and put something black on them. Of course, no one would know. But I would and my friends would know and that might help everyone.

Overall, it seems as though we’ve gotten fairly cavalier about death. We don’t think about it much and when it happens, we always seem to try and get back to normal as quickly as possible, as though death is an aberration rather than a thing that literally happens to everything alive. Although, maybe that’s what’s happened, we know death is coming, so what’s the fuss. And maybe, with so many of us on the planet, losing one or two doesn’t seem like such a big deal. I really don’t know. It’s an interesting question to ponder, although for me personally, I sure miss my wife, thank you very much.