Grief

Preface: I wrote the short post below on Nov. 9th, the day after the election. I meant to come back and continue it, but I’ve still been in shock and haven’t felt like finishing it.

US voters went to the polls on November 8th and, using the gears of American democracy, voted Donald J. Trump as the 45th President of the United States. I didn’t vote for him and I spoke out against him very actively and loudly among my circle of friends and their friends.

I don’t have a crystal ball, so I can’t tell you what Trump’s presidency will be like, but the fact he was elected at all is deeply disturbing and shaken me like very few things in my life have. My loss of faith in the voters (I keep using that to distinguish between them and the total number of American citizens eligible to vote) is so painful, I can only liken it to a couple of other profound losses in my life: Getting dumped by the first and second women I loved, getting divorced, and the death of my father, just this last July.

I’m not being glib in grouping Trump’s election with those other events. Perhaps I’m not as stoic as I should be, maybe I feel things too passionately, too deeply. I don’t know. And like I said, I can’t predict the future with any certainty. Writers have spilled a lot of electrons on what his election means and what might happen, and they do it far better than I can. But what they can’t express better than me is how I’m feeling and how I got here.

 

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