To this day I marvel that I believe this guy–slicked-back hair, in the bereavement business.  He was hired by a funeral home owned by a lawyer who was embroiled in what could politely be described as a baby relocation scheme and less politely–felony kidnapping.

So the man with the slicked-back hair told us all that “they” had studied people who were grieving and found that those who repeated the story frequently healed better.

So many verbs, adjectives, adverbs, quantifiers.  Could you really know?  Could you actually assess the silent grievers?  What does it mean to heal or recover?

Nonetheless, I believed him.  Sometimes to extreme.  I have told, written, squeaked, howled, and shouted stories of autobiography and grief.

Has it helped?

I think so.

I think that the recitation of a story can help process and organize the meat of it all.

Emotion, chronology, whatever.

So I am going to try it.  Tell the story.  Same-ish story.  Over and over again. 

See if the lugubrious man in the funeral home was onto something.

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