The Unquiet Bones

by Loreth Anne White

“It’s like you can’t even grieve,” Christopher says. “Grieving feels like a betrayal, like you’ve given up. Meanwhile the whole world just starts to move on without you.” He glances down at his chapped hands and says quietly, “Sometimes I feel like a glob of old blue toothpaste stuck in the basin that just won’t wash down the drain. Stuck there and drying out.”

“This physical and psychological exhaustion is completely normal. When a loved one disappears, either in body or—in some cases, as with dementia—in mind, it can be the most stressful type of loss. A type that lacks answers. Unclear, indeterminate. No boundaries or resolution. It manifests in ways similar to post-traumatic stress disorder. And you’re all correct, it’s not properly acknowledged by society in general. As you’ve all noted, there’s this perception that the world is moving on, yet you are unable to move with it, and this creates feelings of dissonance and isolation. Which is why groups like this are important. To share. To know we are not alone. It really does help to identify with others who understand what you’re going through. And it’s important to know this type of loss has a name. Ambiguous loss. Or grief limbo.”

The therapist says, “We need to bear in mind that in the context of ambiguous loss, ‘closure’ is a myth. It’s easy to succumb to intense societal pressure to ‘find closure,’ and this message is drummed home by the media, reinforced in movies and in novels. It’s echoed in comments from friends and family. We live in a society that places high value on resolving problems, on finding solutions, on ‘getting over’ things quickly. But when society is faced with people who are missing, there’s a disconnect, a discomfort. They don’t know how to cope with people who are missing loved ones, or with situations that actually have no answers or resolutions. We should not be forced to chase closure,” she warns. “What we need to find are ways to coexist with our complex feelings, and to always remember that our reactions are completely normal.” She glances at Jane. “They’re not a sign of personal weakness.”

The refinement of DNA testing and new scientific developments have changed the shape of cold cases long thought unsolvable, and these chapel bones with a fetus mummified like this . . . she’s been waiting almost fifty years for a chance to finally tell her secret using new science.” “Biding her time in the soil like a silent witness,” the host says. “Or not so silent,” replies the forensic anthropologist, “given she is now finally able to speak.” “The unquiet bones.” The host laughs.