Monday, January 26, 2026

The Fickle Finger of Grief



In the 60’s, Rowan & Martin’s Laugh-In had a segment on each show called the Flying “Fickle Finger of Fate” Award. The award was given to public and political figures, organizations, the government, or various other groups. When awarding the fickle finger to the Pentagon for their expensive purchases, Dick Martin observed there were “five sides to every story at the Pentagon.”

Although this reference to five sides was spoken in humor, it almost seems that all stories have at least five sides. We have the serious side, the hyped side, the biased side, the humorous side, and (once in a great while) the truth.

The fickle finger of fate sometimes points to the fickle finger of grief. We can ramble through our lives unscathed until fate steps in and snatches our state of blissful unawareness and replaces it with unfathomable loss.

Loss is based on our individual tolerance and scope of experiences. For young people: losing your boyfriend (or girlfriend) to a rival may be a crushing blow to your self-esteem, or incentive to enjoy alone time or to find someone more suitable. For adults, the loss of a job can be devastating to some, and a relief to others.

We can move on from most events, but the fickle finger of grief can move in and not move on when the loss is permanent and unreplaceable. When someone you love has dementia, the grief is ambiguous. You have an ongoing sense of loss and sadness although your loved one is still physically with you. Life as you have known it will never be the same. You will need resilience to rebuild your life and realize that you eventually establish a “new” normal.

Other situations can cause ambiguous grief. Any serious or terminal conditions can cause prolonged grief for the person with the illness, friends, family members, and especially the primary care partner. Being strong for someone you love can hurt your heart and shatter your world.

Rather than recovery from grief, we are in remission. Life moves forward, and yet a photo, a song, a random thought, being in a crowd, a quiet moment, or a vivid dream can cause a full-blown outbreak of grief.

A few days ago, I woke up crying after a vivid dream. The loss was as painful as the day it happened. Grief is like a dark cloud that can hide the brightest sun. Sometimes, I have to remind myself that when the cloud dissipates, the sun will shine again and warm my weary soul.

 Most days I feel normal. I refuse to let grief point its fickle finger at me too often. I made myself a promise that I wouldn’t make any major changes for a year. I try to keep busy and productive.

Sometimes I’m too busy and I’ve made myself a promise to relax from time-to-time. I have goals for each day of the week to keep myself from jumping from one project to another too quickly. I’m not as good at multi-tasking as I used to be and am more productive when I focus on one thing at a time.

 At least one day each week is reserved for doing something I enjoy. Its too easy to be bogged down in the drudgery of everyday life instead of making the most of the blessing of life.

No one deserves to let the fickle finger of grief point in their direction, but if it does, you have to remember that only one finger points to grief. The rest of the fingers and the thumb point toward finding your inner peace.

 

Copyright © January 2026 by L. S. Fisher

http://earlyonset.blogspot.com

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