Anna of Green Gables?

So I’m going to Margaret’s class today to read aloud from Anne of Green Gables and lead a brief discussion with the girls. Due to trauma and lack of energy, I was the last mom to sign up this year. Most moms have gone twice already.

Well guess what? My chapters do not deal with Anne Shirley dyeing her red hair green, accidentally getting her best friend drunk, or yelling at her busy-body neighbor. No sirree. Imagine my delight when I finally got to Chapters 36 and 37 yesterday afternoon-- my chapters -- and learned I get to read about Matthew, Anne’s beloved adopted father, dying.

S-weet.

Matthew falls down dead in front of Anne and Marilla, and despite their attempts to revive him, he receives the “seal of the Great Presence.”

Soooooo, you may want to pray for me, well for ALL of us, around 11:40-12 today. Margaret and I struggle to talk about grief and our feelings about it in the privacy of our own home, so all bets are off for a public discussion of Anne’s reaction to losing her champion, her biggest cheerleader, her Matthew.

No, the impact of Matthew’s death does not merit just a quick mention—it is described, quite eloquently, for the majority of the chapter—ranging from how Anne and Marilla feel, to what it’s like when time moves on without him.

Who knows? Perhaps I’ll just read the chapters without comment, throw a few cupcakes at the girls, and make a run for it. My tears make people uncomfortable, but they come quickly and flow freely these days. It won’t help that I’m already so very sad this week as Jack’s class is on an exciting 3 day field trip to the Chesapeake Bay. With lots of soda, chips, and middle school-ness. Aargh. Will the tears flow?

Maybe I'll dress in period costume ("fancy garb" as Jack would call it) just to throw things off and increase poor Margaret's mortification.

I must say, I think L.M. Montgomery, who wrote Anne of Green Gables, pegs certain aspects of grief very well. Here’s an example:

Anne :

“I’m not afraid. I haven’t been alone one minute since it happened and I want to be. I want to be quite silent and quiet and try to realize it. I CAN’T realize it. Half the time it seems to me that Matthew can’t be dead; and the other half it seems as if he must have been dead for a long time and I’ve had this horrible dull ache ever since.”

“…and then Avonlea settled back to its usual placidity and even at Green Gables affairs slipped into their old groove and work was done and duties fulfilled with regularity as before, although always with the aching sense of loss in all familiar things. Anne, new to grief, thought it almost sad that it could be so—that they COULD go in the old way without Matthew.”

Amen, Sister.

Friday blessings to you all.

POSTSCRIPT:

It went very well. Thank you for your encouragement. I was able to read the chapters without crying and also make just a few comments based on Anne's experience:

1. People grieve differently.

2. It is sometimes hard to enjoy life after someone has died because you can feel disloyal doing so, but the person who died would want you to live life fully.