Weltschmerz
or welt·schmerz
sorrow that one feels and accepts as one's necessary portion in life; sentimental pessimism.
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Dilan was feeling numb. He knew he should be feeling something. Something like sadness, or even anger. And yet, he felt nothing. He saw everyone else around him. They were clearly feeling something. Many were crying. Others were trying to laugh off the sadness by telling stories and remembering.
But Dilan could not bring himself to do that. He simply sat on a cheap folding chair, looking at a photograph. It showed him and his family, all gathered around for some event. A vacation, most likely. He could not remember which one, but everyone looked very happy, which was something. At least he had emotions then.
Someone came over to offer condolences. He barely heard them. Something about “it being her time” and “she wouldn’t want you to be sad.” He had heard those and so much more a dozen times today alone. He gave a half-hearted acknowledgement of the sentiments and the person giving them left to find better conversation.
He knew feeling like this was worthless. This sort of thing happened to everyone at some point. Death was just another part of life that one had to accept. Sure he could feel sad and mourn the loss, just like everyone else, but this? This complete emptiness? That was not normal. At least, he did not think it was. Even his father clearly felt something. The man was shaking like a leaf and holding a photo of her. His eyes were wide and free of expression, but the man was clearly feeling something.
And yet, Dilan could feel nothing. Not happy. Not sad. Not angry. Nothing. His mind churned at the slow pace of a paint mixer as he thought about why. What was wrong with him that he could not bring himself to feel sorrow over his own mother’s death? It was one of the few things everyone could agree was terrible. That he was allowed to cry over and feel bad about. Nobody would think less of him for that. And yet…
More people, relatives this time, approached him. Asked him how he was doing. What he was thinking. He was not sure how to answer them. Honesty seemed wrong somehow. Like it was disrespectful somehow. Disrespectful of her memory and those who actually felt something. So he gave a noncommittal half answer. Something about how he needed time to process everything. Like it did not feel real. It was not a complete lie really.
As the others left him to his thoughts, he wondered if this was just how he felt now. Would this be his new normal? Maybe he would feel all that sorrow tomorrow, where it would hit him all at once and he would cry half his body weight. Somehow he did not think that would be the case, but anything was possible. He was not even sure if feeling emotions was better than this emptiness. Would he long for the return to nothing when his emotions did finally return? Well, for now, the only thing he could do was wait and see.
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Man, the Germans have a highly specific word for everything, don't they?
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