What weird, strange, or unusual things do people do when they are mourning the death of a loved one?

I lost more than 100 lbs right after my dad died.

My mother was not herself (no laughter, no jokes, no sicializing) for more that 2 years after her husband died.

People could change careers, set off on a world travel adventure, or change their lives (end a relationship, move).

My father’s family would all fly in, drink, go to the funeral, drink, eat, drink, laugh, cry, drink, unearth old grudges, have the traditional drunken battle royale, then straighten themselves up and leave until the next funeral. My mother’s family internalized everything. They were quiet and polite, but acted like they could barely tolerate one another. Some left for the airport right from the funeral and never came to the house. They did the same at whatever family’s hometown the funeral was held.

Becoming much more joyful and sociable in the faint hope that the pain will subside somehow. Trying to find a good friend to fill the loss. Starting associate every strange sign as the dead trying to communicate with her. Researching psychic power and trying to apply on herself.

Covering photos of the deceased and mirrors or turning them to face the wall. (I’m pretty sure that’s a Jewish custom, but not being a Jew I can’t swear to it.)

Vacating the place where the person died and never returning. (An old Navajo tradition, if Tony Hillerman can be credited.)

Rending clothes and wearing sack cloth and ashes. (Ancient Christian tradition?)

But these are only weird, strange or unusual to people outside of those cultures. People in those cultures would think it weird, strange or unusual to do something else.

Thank you for your responses. These are things I hadn’t considered. Grief and recovery are fascinating topics.

Right after my mother died. My brothers and I were numb. We went out for pizza with our friends because we wanted to do something “normal” and it hadn’t really sunk in yet. In retrospect, I feel strangely guilty for even being able to eat but there was nothing we could do for her and we didn’t want to go back to her empty house.

@LeavesNoTrace That is completely normal. My siblings and I all spent the last few nights of Mom’s life together at her house. When she was gone, we did the same thing that night on auto-pilot.

Have you read the Elizabeth Kubler-Ross books on grief, death and dying? You might find her very informative and interesting. Her work is academic and well-footnoted. In the indices and bibliographies you will find a treasure-trove of more books on ritual and behaviours that could keep you occupied into the next century.

@give_seek

I don’t know if this is normal, but when my mother died, I held on to some of her ashes and a lock of her hair. My father was inordinately cruel in not letting me take many of her belongings (including jewelry she had intended me to have) and the few things she did give me, were stolen during a home invasion while I was living in Ecuador.

In the months after her death, I would sometimes take out the little ziplock bag of her ashes or hair and just hold them and cry. It seems strange and morbid even now but it did make me a little better to just “be” with her in some way and cry. (I’m actually getting choked up as I write this.)

My controlling, abusive ex made me throw out her cremains but I was fortunate to be able to get some more of her back from a family friend when I came back to the US. Since then, I keep her cremains on top of my wine rack overlooking the NYC skyline. I don’t know any other 27-year-olds who have cremains in their living room, but I’ve been enjoying taking some of her with me every time I travel and scattering her in a beautiful spot. So far, she’s in the Pacific Ocean, on an Ecuadorian volcano, in the Medittereanan off the Amalfi coast and the Caribbean off of Saint Lucia. I hope to add Cambodia to or Thailand the list soon!

(Sorry if that was a long explanation)

One of the most poignant descriptions of grief I’ve read recently is this mother’s article about losing her 14-month-old son. I’ll warn you, it’s visceral and not an easy read but you may find it helpful for you novel.

http://www.mamamia.com.au/grieving-a-child/

@LeavesNoTrace Thank you for sharing your story. That was a courageous thing to do. I think my character would do well to follow in your footsteps.

@give_seek Thanks.

Did you get a chance to read that article I sent? It’s obviously very sad (from the perspective of a bereaved parent), but also an illuminating “behind-the-scenes” look at acute grief.

@LeavesNoTrace I started reading the article. It was very painful. I had to stop reading. I’ll go back though. I may have to read it in sections. The details are . . . poignant.

I have a few items of clothing that belonged to my mother. She passed away two years ago. The clothes still smell of her perfume and cigarettes. She smoked 3 packs a day.

I hated the smell my entire life but grabbing one of those items now and then and holding it up to my face brings me comfort. She was cremated and my father has her ashes so I don’t have a place where I can mourn her. I have her clothes instead.

@dammitjanetfromvegas Thank you for sharing your experience. I have my father’s hat that smells of cigars and sweat. Just a whiff fills me with years of memories.

I also have a handkerchief that my dad used to use, it’s been washed, but I took it, it’s old and worn out. I put the handkerchief in a plastic zip lock bag and have it in my top draw. Every time I go in there I pick up the handkerchief and hold it close to my heart. When my mom passed away my brother cut off some locks of her curly hair and the nurse from the hospital gave us a plastic see through small container to put the hair in. I keep it tightly closed, till today, the lock of hair has shine and the same curl that was cut. I keep them together in the top draw, when I open the draw to get something out, I always take them out and hold them close to my heart. Will never forget them and how wonderful they were to me.

@bitterfly I appreciate you sharing your personal memory ritual. It sounds like you are indeed keeping your loved ones close to your heart.

When my dad died I started to find everything wrong with him and deemed him all the assholes under the sun, and anyone who offered condolences was told to fuck off. I’m not like that now about him and I never meant it for real but I was way younger and anger was the easiest thing to channel. This went on for about a year.