I gave you the first thought yesterday from the Substack. The second was the idea that we need to get better at suffering and acknowledge that grief extends beyond the people closest to the situation as a society.

She writes,

Only a handful of people “get” to fully grieve the loss of someone close to them, but how many others are acutely sharing that grief? I’m thinking about how beloved friends of the deceased don’t necessarily get to take their three allotted bereavement days from work because they’re not family members. I’m thinking about the pals who don’t get updates on a buddy’s medical condition because the friends haven’t passed some sort of closeness test.

It’s such a deeply profound thought because, as a society, we almost need to prove that we’re allowed to grieve. We have to state our relationship to the deceased or ill — and we’re judged whether we’re close enough to the situation to warrant the space to hold our feelings. And yet, our emotions don’t get that message. Our feelings ask us to stop. Society, work, and relationships ask us to go on.

There is a difference, of course, in inserting your grief. Of asking someone else impacted by the situation to hold your grief for you. But Mari’s point is that we should expand the idea of who is “allowed” to grieve, to have their feelings acknowledged and honoured when they need space to explore them.

I read a Substack a while back that I’m still thinking about — well, two ideas from it — which means it’s probably ripe for analyzing in a post. Mari Andrews wrote five things she learned from her work in the ICU.

The first plays with the thought of admitting what you don’t know when hearing about someone else’s situation. She writes,

My mentor, a no-nonsense Blundstones-wearing rabbi who was easily exhausted by hubris and certainty, constantly reminded me, YOU DON’T KNOW.

“Even if you had the patient’s exact illness, or you’ve felt the same way, you don’t know what it’s like to be them. Enter their room only with questions, never answers.”

I love that idea of entering with only questions, never answers. And using that as a guide to help anyone through a situation. Really, as humans, our role is to abide. To ask questions that will get people talking through their feelings or ask questions to let them know that you’re remembering with them. You are not meant to have answers. You are not them. Even if you’ve gone through something similar (ahem… infertility), you have not gone through their experience. So while you may be asked a question — how did you get through X? — it’s not your place to think you need to offer them how you got through X because you’re not there for answers. Only questions.

I especially loved this reminder: “I was so frustrated that I didn’t have the opportunity to blow everyone’s minds with my yet-to-be-discovered miraculous superpower to have the perfect words for every occasion.” Isn’t that impulse so true? But being there for someone is not about flexing your superpower. It’s knowing that no superpower can remove the weight of the other person’s grief. We can add to it, but we can’t remove it entirely. Only lighten it a bit by listening.

Not sure what #MicroblogMondays is? Read the inaugural post which explains the idea and how you can participate too.

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When the National Zoo reopened after COVID closures, they went to a timed entrance system. They were free tickets, but you had to have a pass to walk through the park. I didn’t pay much attention because I rarely went to the zoo.

But it was in the news again last week because Eleanor Holmes Norton asked the zoo to remove the pass system to make it more accessible to people who don’t have a computer and can’t sign up for the digital pass. The zoo said no, though they pointed out that they reserve a certain amount of passes for people who show up without a pass because they couldn’t access them online.

I guess I didn’t realize to check on something like that because it feels like the world has moved on with restrictions despite COVID cases being where they are.

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Are you also doing #MicroblogMondays? Add your link below. The list will be open until Tuesday morning. Link to the post itself, not your blog URL. (Don’t know what that means? Please read the three rules on this post to understand the difference between a permalink to a post and a blog’s main URL.) Only personal blogs can be added to the list. I will remove any posts connected to businesses or sponsored posts.

The absolute worst scene in Jodie Foster’s Contact, one that has stayed with me for countless years even though I only saw the movie once, was the scene on the beach with her father. She’s actually talking to an alien, but rather than scare her by appearing in its own form, it takes on the shape and sound of her father to put her at ease. But all I could think when I watched it was that it was so cruel because she knew she had this limited time with the alien/father, and then she’d have to leave, and she was aware of this the whole time she was with him.

Senior year is like living that scene of Contact every day.

I want to enjoy the time. I can often set the idea of limited time out of my head and enjoy the time. We lounge on the bed, talking about nothing. ChickieNob and I exercise and listen to audiobooks. The Wolvog and I critique video games. We all have dinner together every night, and everyone lingers at the table.

But then, the reminder that this limited time will all come to a halt in August. They will go live at a college. We will continue to live here. My heart starts pounding as I think about this, and I often have to escape the room to cry. Each time, I think about that scene, about being in a place you want to be, with the people you want to be with, and realizing that it’s all limited. It all comes to an end.

This transition has been hard for me; it has been building for years and has become an enormous hole in my heart this last year. Thank you for reading it and abiding with me.

Because we like to wait until every pop culture moment is a speck in the side view mirror, we only started Heartstopper (Netflix) this week. I keep calling it Heartbreaker. The ChickieNob is like, “STOP. HeartSTOPPER. He STOPS his heart.” Then I mutter, “stop, stop, stop,” to myself. An hour passes, and then I say, “So we’re going to watch Heartbreaker tonight?”

It is so wholesome that it makes my heart hurt. It’s like Schitt’s Creek. You want to hang out with these lovely, clever creatures who never say a curse word and get excited to play in the snow.

Really, it is the sweetest show I’ve seen in a while, and I adore the time we spend with the group.

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Stop procrastinating. Go make your backups. Don’t have regrets.

Seriously. Stop what you’re doing for a moment. It will take you fifteen minutes, tops. But you will have peace of mind for days and days. It’s the gift to yourself that keeps on giving.

As always, add any new thoughts to the Friday Backup post and peruse new comments to find out about methods, plug-ins, and devices that help you quickly back up your data and accounts.

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And now the blogs…

But first, second, helpings of the posts that appeared in the open comment thread last week. To read the description before clicking over, please return to the open thread:

• None… sniff.

Okay, now my choices this week.

The Barreness talks about visiting her friend. She writes: “There is something unique and beautiful about a friend that knows you, and has known you for decades. They spot when you are bull-shiting yourself, and when you are downplaying something.” So so so true. These friendships are so valuable. And maybe I related being in the same position as her friend. With hot flashes to boot.

Lastly, No Kidding in NZ writes about how no two situations are alike, even if you have a factor that bonds you. She looks at the difference between her situation and her friend’s No Kidding situation, and she explains: “So our present, in terms of relationships with children, look very different, and a lot lonelier. As do our futures, despite the fact that we are all childless.” It’s not about better or worse but just an acknowledgment of the difference.

The roundup to the Roundup: Loving Heartstopper. Your weekly backup nudge. And lots of great posts to read. So what did you find this week? Please use a permalink to the blog post (written between January 13 – 20) and not the blog’s main URL. Not understanding why I’m asking you what you found this week? Read the original open thread post here.