A great example of this is collective nouns.
A murder of crows.
A hastiness of cooks.
A blush of boys.
You would think such thorough lexicographers would have found a collective noun for just about everything.
A charm of finches.
A knot of toads.
A pity of prisoners.
There is no collective noun for a group of widows or widowers. There is no word that captures the utter isolation you experience when you lose a spouse. There are no specific words for the darkess of the night, the silence, the emptiness where once there was warmth. There are no graceful, antiquated words for the particular keening sound I make. There are no words
I don't have the words. My most trusted ally is absent.
So I offer you a few collective nouns, specific to those who are grieving. Perhaps the lexicographers can add them to their lists.
A keen of sorrow.
An echo of silence.
A singularity of widows.
Grief underscores the old axiom "needs must" and so in my need I must create new words. New patterns. A new udnerstanding of what it is to be a singular entity, even in a crowd. I have become a singularity of widows.
(c) 2014 Laura Packer
(30 weeks. No words.)