In this definition series, I’m taking a grief-related word and giving it a bit of a ‘glow up’. This is borne from my frustration at how limited our language is around grief. While I can’t create new words (‘griefy’ is as far as I’ve got!), I can review and reflect on the few that already exist (and try and update their definitions where possible).
I’m aiming for these to be rated ‘Feeling Griefy on the Go’. This rating is for short and light-touch pieces that can be read scrolling on your phone waiting for the bus. Or while the kettle boils for a mid-afternoon tea. It’s the most digestible of nibbles. A salted griefy peanut.
The first word of the definition series is ‘bereaved’ (traditionally defined as ‘someone who is suffering the death of a loved one’).
Bereaved:
I don’t mean to be dramatic when I say I would avoid anything that says it’s ‘for the bereaved’ like the plague. Perhaps this comes from a reluctance to put myself in that category… although I think mainly it’s because it feels more appropriate language for someone in Victorian times than the 21st century.
In fact, I’d put ‘bereaved’ in the same category of words as ‘lavatory’. But while lavatory has evolved and modernised to ‘loo’ or ‘toilet’, ‘bereaved’ has just stayed as, well, ‘bereaved’. It is old-fashioned and outdated. It also feels quite pointedly ‘grown up’ (contrasting cruelly with the fact that it does not just apply to those more grown…).
I will, however, give it points for efficiency. It is a less clunky and awkward way to explain a situation (e.g. ‘I’ve experienced a bereavement’ vs ‘this person I love has just died…’). It does what is says on the tin in a no nonsense, no frills sort of way. This makes it perfectly placed to be used in more formal settings, like at work (oh how balanced an analysis).
However, in terms of its day-to-day utility, it’s up there with uncommon cooking ingredients like Tamarind paste* (or any other random ingredient you had to make a special trip to Waitrose for). It comes in handy for the most obscure of dishes, but once its job is done, it’s left at the back of the cupboard gathering dust.
*perhaps, for any cooking enthusiasts, this is quite a common ingredient in your cooking (in which case, please do let me know how best to use leftover Tamarind paste and also – while we’re at it - Harissa paste too, thank you!)
As someone who has been labeled as 'bereaved' plenty of times, let me also share how horrific the entire concept of 'Bereaved Mother's Day" is. I'm sure there are plenty of women who do not share my hatred of this day, and to them I honor their loss and their choice. Even though I do not have my daughter here anymore, I am still a mother. Like an actual, normal, human mother who birthed another human. And for that reason, I am a fan of Mother's Day. Just regular old plain boring Mother's Day. I am acutely aware that I am 'bereaved' every single moment of my life, and I'd rather not dedicate special holidays to showing the world that I'm not a regular mom who gets to celebrate Mother's Day, but a BEREAVED mother who can only celebrate BEREAVED Mother's Day. (I'm not nearly as bitter as I sound! But I do just hate the word.)