Late last month while visiting my son in California we toured The Winchester Mystery House. Its’ one hundred and sixty rooms were built by carpenters pounding hammers twenty-four hours a day for thirty-eight years. Which leads to the obvious questions: Why? What would possess someone to build such a monolith?
Of course, history is replete with memorials built to commemorate the achievements and loves of those no longer living, however this house had notable differences. Among other peculiarities it was built with numerous staircases, ramps and doors that lead to nowhere, many iterations of the number 13 incorporated into the house and its furnishings, and séance rooms and quiet places where its sole occupant, Mrs. Winchester, spent hours warding away ghosts she believed lived within the house and followed her around on account of the many deaths that had resulted from firearms that were the foundation of her husband’s great fortune.
Mrs. Winchester lost both her husband and their infant daughter when she herself was quite young.And although when her husband died, she’d been living in New Haven, Connecticut, she felt called to the west coast to build the house she lived in and labored over for the next thirty-eight years. She was a recluse, never having sought to make friends or participate in the San Jose community. Yet she built multiple ornate rooms for dining and entertaining, rooms she rarely entered or used in any way. The cost, time and labor were extraordinary, and although it is an astounding architectural accomplishment it left me feeling cold. Envisioning Mrs. Winchester roaming the long, dark hallways alone (save the sounds of hammers going 24/7 for 38 years) made me wonder more about her internal ghosts than her fear of being followed by ghosts outside of herself. The experience made me sad for her. Clearly, she had the financial means to surround herself with great beauty, and the ability to build an amazing memorial. Yet it seemed to me that she must have felt impoverished by her circumstances, living in a gilded cage, unable to associate with anyone (save one niece who moved in with her for her last few years), and spending her lifetime literally wandering hallways that led nowhere, feeling guilty for countless deaths caused by firearm purchases that supported her lifestyle.
It seems to me that Mrs. Winchester’s arrested grief stunted her growth, and it got me to thinking about the stages of grief framed by Swiss-American psychiatrist Elisabeth Kubler Ross in her groundbreaking 1969 book On Death and Dying- denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. Although not linear stops, coursing through the stages in whatever non-linear path one takes creates the strength to learn to live with loss. Without acceptance there is no peace, and without peace there is no ability to fully embrace life.
Divorce involves grief for both parties no matter the circumstances as like death, it is a loss- the loss of a dream, a vision, an expectation, as well as often a lifestyle and social and familial relationships. Because traditional divorce laws don’t account for the emotional contours of a marriage, when divorce is seen only as a legal process people often become embittered and are left to wander paths that lead nowhere. In contrast to that paradigm, when the loss is named and recognition is given to it, people can be freed from the chains of their own minds allowing them to accept and heal, find peace and grow. And that my friends, is a legacy worth leaving.