In June of 2016 I supported my love Chris as we dealt with the death of both his parents and a co-worker over a three week period. This essay written the summer of those deaths is my attempt to make sense of grief and the struggle to carry all that I care for. Originally published in the anthology You Care Too Much by with/out pretend, the essay Care/Carry/Cure is now available to download for free by visiting www.withoutpretend.com/secrets.
“The dead don’t need care,” she says, and it is the truest thing I have ever heard. I hold the clean, bright taste of this truth in my mouth, rolling it around on my tongue like sacrament or salvation, words to keep the dark of indifference at bay.
From Care/Care/Cure, written by Jessika Hepburn for You Care Too Much available in print here.
We care and need care because we are alive. This sharp grief that comes in waves means I haven’t yet executed the soft centre of my heart to avoid future pain. Both “care” and “cure” come from the same Ancient Roman roots, the Latin term “cura” that meant to be both afflicted with trouble or anxiety and devotion to the welfare of another. These two meanings seem in conflict unless care is the cure. I’m reminded of every small mercy life has provided, the gifts of presence and perfect timing, unexpected reminders of simple goodness that appear to save me from total despair with the awareness that we are here to love and be loved, to hold close what is good in each other while we can. Everything else is secondary
