Misery Loves Company

Misery loves company. That’s true, but not in the way you might be thinking.

Traditionally I’ve always thought of the statement ‘misery loves company’ as a negative one. It’s something you say about those die hard complaint-niks. You know the people that sit around endlessly complaining about their problems: taxes, crabgrass, hangnails and the like.

I think is more truthful though when we are talking about true misery---about grief and loss—to say that misery not only loves company, it requires it.

Ever since my husband was killed in a car accident in January, I’ve found solace in the company of others who speak grief’s unspoken language. There is peace in just being with people to whom loss is not an abstract theory; they KNOW. They know what it’s like to be “fine” one moment and gutted the next. They know what it’s like to navigate life with a gaping hole in the middle of what used to be your heart; it’s hard to remember to put on pants, feed the dog, or get out of the shower. They know how tiring it is to go out in public, to stay upright, to respond appropriately. Everything hurts. Everything.

It is an amazing, humbling thing to see these people who have lost so much reach out and pull me into their world, to hold me close and show me the ropes. It’s like we are all members of a club that nobody wants to join and yet if it weren’t for my fellow club members the world would be a very bleak place indeed. I don’t have to have known them “Before” to know them well now. Grief is our common denominator and we are finding our way through together. Even though our paths may be very different there is a commonality that binds us, bonds us and brings us at least a measure of comfort.

So yeah, misery loves company. Very much.