The Guarded Door
Hi my friend,
There is something about
a cosy mystery that has always felt
soothing for my soul.
Or maybe it’s just
Agatha Christie’s detectives.
The way they let me slip into
the richness of the 1920s world.
Dimly lit social clubs
with live music playing
late into the night.
Girls in strings of pearls,
dancing the Charleston,
gaining freedom in their dresses…
and movement.
So it wasn’t a surprise
that I recently watched
Seven Dials.
And of course I loved it.
The acting.
The cinematography.
The costumes.
The music.
All of it.
But my favorite part
was something else entirely.
It was watching
the main character
meet her Grief.
The shock.
The devastation.
The rush of anger.
The unfairness of life
landing on her.
Sometimes films do that.
They recognize us.
They hold up a mirror
to what we are living through
in our own lives.
So there she was standing,
alone in her bedroom,
before picking up a fire iron
and striking the writing bureau
with all her force.
And then again.
And again.
Until nothing remained
but splinters.
A feral woman.
Mourning.
And I saw her.
I recognized her in me.
But the best part
was still to come.
A maid hears the noise
and rushes toward the room.
But before she can enter,
the mourning woman’s mother
blocks the door.
No, she says.
You must allow her
her Grief.
And the scene ends
with the mother guarding
her mourning daughter’s door.
Allowing her girl
to meet the pain
however she
needs.
And I kept thinking…
yes.
I want that.
I want more of us
to have that.
To have our Grief
treated as something sacred.
And to be allowed to meet it
with all honesty.
I want people
not to rush us away from it…
Just because it’s uncomfortable
to witness it.
Uncomfortable
doesn’t mean that
it's dangerous.
I want less of
the empty promises…
that it will get better with time.
I know it will… but who cares,
when the pain is eating
me alive?!
I want people to stop saying
they’re in a better place....
Because do they not know how
much it hurts to hear it?
And yes, I want more people
to protect the doors of those
who are mourning.
To stand guard.
And not let anyone
intrude upon it.
With love,
Elina
