Is there anything left to lose? (Hecuba)

Dear Athena, I am a mother to many children – was a mother to many children I should say. In fact, it’s been over twenty years since I had my first brush with child loss: one of my sons was taken from me almost as soon as he was born. It was fated that he would bring about the destruction of our great city, so he couldn’t possibly be allowed to live… It’s almost funny to think that my sole comfort at the time was that I very unlikely to have to endure such utter desolation again. How wrong I was.

But before this seemingly never-ending heartbreak began, there was a moment of joy, a miraculous day which brought my precious boy back to me. My beloved baby had grown into a dashing young man, whose arrival was shortly followed by the most devastating war.

Ten long years I spent behind our city walls, looking out onto the battlefield below, so I’ll try to get this out quickly. I lost that same son all over again, along with his brothers. Our city fell, my husband was killed, my grandson ruthlessly slaughtered, my daughter sacrificed by the enemy.

Now I find myself a captive, on the battleground I used to look down on, unable to turn my gaze upon the ruins of my beloved home, waiting to be told what will happen to us next. My one surviving daughter is of little comfort. She claims to have the gift of prophecy and threatens to tell us all what lies in store. For herself she has predicted a gruesome death, slaughtered at the hand of her captor’s vengeful wife. I see no reason to believe this, she’s just being dramatic as always.

I’ve spent so long being strong in the face of devastation, and I’ll confess to being utterly exhausted, not to mention unsure of my next move. I was queen of this noble city after all, should I not take one last stand for my home, my people? Or would it be more honourable to demonstrate my status by accepting my fate with a quiet dignity? What I most want to do is give in to my grief, surrender myself to all that I have lost, but I don’t believe I deserve such a luxury. There is a part of me that feels responsible for all this, the same part that, every day after my son was taken from me, hoped that one day, somehow, I might see him again. Perhaps I should have been more cautious with my prayers.

However, I cannot dwell on this. Soon our new masters will come to claim us, we will be scattered and separated, and I wish to be prepared. I have become so used to horror heaped upon horror, that I am always expecting some fresh tragedy. Yet how can there be worse to come? How can I have anything left to lose? My future stretches before me and I don’t know how I can bear it. – what_the_hec

Athena says: I know that no expression of sorrow or sympathy from me or anyone else is of much use to you right now, but I am truly sorry for each and every one of your losses.

You have suffered more than any person should ever have to, so much so that it was difficult to know where to begin, but I think the first thing I should say is that you are in no way responsible for any of this. Of course you secretly prayed to see your son again. Who in your position would do otherwise? Far from blaming you for harbouring such a hope, I applaud you. However, much as I value hope, and believe me I do – just ask my readers – its power does not lie in its fulfilment, but rather in its capacity to make you believe that better is out there, that you can carry on. Your hope made it possible for you to reach the day which brought your son back to you, it did not start a war.

I applaud you for harbouring such a hope

So there is no need for you to feel guilty over your grief. In fact, I am pleased that that is where your instinct is pointing. You have been through so much pain, it would be dangerous to ignore it. In fact, now is probably the best time to give voice to your anguish. As you yourself say, you are about to be separated from your fellow captives. When will you next have the chance to weep and be wept upon, to console and be consoled by those who truly understand what you have been through? Your masters have not come to claim you just yet, and you can reassume your crown of steely dignity the moment they do.

On the subject of the looming separation from your companions, I feel I should point out the obvious: this is another loss. It might seem small in comparison to what has already been taken from you, but the last links to your former life and home are about to be broken. You will not see these women again in this lifetime. So whether or not you choose to believe your dramatic, doom-prophesying daughter, and I do understand why you don’t, remind yourself that you are losing her either way. Don’t waste this chance to say goodbye, to offer comfort while you can.

Don’t waste this chance to say goodbye

I’m not at all surprised that you’re exhausted. As you observe, the disasters just kept piling up. You can’t have had a moment to process one blow before the next one fell. Not only have you been bereaved in so many different ways, you’ve also been left an obscene amount of trauma to work through…

What I’m trying to say is that, unfortunately, there is more misery to come. As you spend time dwelling on the dreadful things that have happened, you’re going to have to relive all that pain, all that loss. The reality of it is going to sink in.

You will remember your loved-ones for who they were rather than how they died

But there is a chance that it will be worth it. As you deal with darkness, it begins to fade. The losses of your loved-ones will stop being the main event of their lives, and take their rightful places as the ends of their stories. You will remember them for who they were rather than how they died. Slowly, your memories will start to regroup. The past cannot be restored, but some part of your home, your family, lives on in you.

This would indeed be a noble reason to endure. A secret source of strength that enables you to live out your days under your new master with your signature queenly purpose and dignity. But have you not spent enough time doing the noble thing?

More than most, you know that it’s a dog-eat-dog world out there, and sometimes, just occasionally, the best thing to do is bow out, which is why I am about to float a rather strange suggestion. What if you didn’t spend the rest of your life as a captive queen? This might be a good time to pray for change. Big change. I’m talking, of course, of metamorphosis.

End your days not as a former queen, but as a member of the animal kingdom

Why not ask to be released from your human body, your human suffering? Leave worry and servitude behind and end your days not as a former queen, but as a member of the animal kingdom.

I wouldn’t do this straight away. Wait until you’ve bid farewell to your companions at least, but once you’re sailing away from your duty and responsibility towards your home and your family, then it’s all about you. It’s safe to say that the extent of your suffering has been established. I don’t think there is anyone, human or divine, who would deny you this freedom from care. And as you yourself say, what else do you have to lose?