A post in which I am witness to a melt-down

It started off as a fairly normal day.  I worked on month end (I was actually able to turn in the US short form today) and accepted an invitation from Eve to go for supper.  I hadn't seen them last week, and figured we would have a lot to talk about.

The evening started nicely enough.  We had grilled marinated shrimp with pineapple (which was delicious), baked potatoes, oven-roasted vegetables, fresh beets, salad, and yeast rolls.  I helped finish up supper.  Dad was in a good mood.  The conversation was pretty pleasant.  Eve was in a great mood, I thought, and prattled on about a three-week trip they are planning to New England for June.  They've been wanting to do it for a while, and I was pleased that they were.  She seemed tickled about it, and laid out the whole itinerary. 

The problem came after supper. 

There was a casual mention of Cindy's name, and Eve had another melt-down.

Let me start off by saying here that I understand she is hurting over this.  I don't have children or grandchildren, but I know that hurts.  The loss of hers is particularly traumatic given her life situation.  She really has little other family. 

I don't want to be unsympathetic.  I really don't, but she holds onto this misery like a stubborn child with a teddy bear.  The pain never seems to diminish.   She never lays it down.  She says that she can't.  I suppose that is possible.  I don't know.  But I know that continued tears and histrionics solve nothing.  Showing up at their house unannounced solves nothing. 

There is nothing that can be said to comfort her.  There is no reasoning with her.  She wants to vent, beat her breast, and recite a litany of tearful recriminations.  Every time.  Sometimes she runs down after a while.  Tonight she didn't.  It is human nature to try to stop someone from hurting themselves.  If you saw a loved one repeatedly cutting themselves with a knife, you would take it away, or at least try to distract them.  Sometimes distraction works and you can change the subject.  Tonight it did not.  When we tried to explain that this has to stop, we were met with hostility.  She worked herself up into a frenzy of grief tonight the likes of which I haven't seen in some time.  Dad finally just said he was going to bed.  She stormed out of the room, and I just left.

I called Lisa on the way home to decompress for a bit.  I felt wrung out and upset.  Lisa understands how they are, and we talked about other things for a while, which made me feel a bit better.  But I laid awake when I got in the bed.