According to a Swedish proverb, “Shared joy is double joy; shared sorrow is half a sorrow.” Many of us hold back from sharing sorrows for fear of wearing out our friends (who aren’t the best of friends in that case). But almost everyone—including me—loves sharing joyful news. I shared with anyone who would listen the news of the births of our three grandchildren, the publication of my first book, and the news that my husband’s stroke a few years ago was minor and he would recover fully. I’m elated by these and other joyful moments when I have people to share them with. Doubling the joy is my first instinct.
A couple of weeks ago, I had occasion to share in someone else’s joy, and it’s fair to say I’m ecstatic. The news actually brought tears to my eyes. Elena’s engaged to be married! My former student, who I call Elena in my upcoming memoir, Subject to Change, had a beautiful daughter the year before I became her teacher. After graduation, she went on to marry and have a son. Unfortunately, that marriage didn’t last, but she parented her children with humor and wisdom. Elena is a confident mom. Her daughter and son are teenagers now, challenging in all the ways teens can be, but her tight-knit family has been a fantastic support system for her in the seventeen years since I first met her.
As I describe in Subject to Change, Elena completed an associate degree in international business and began work on her bachelor’s degree in 2021. Her degree certificate was another joy shared on Facebook that I responded to enthusiastically, along with many others. Double joy! Less than a year later, disaster struck. Her mother’s home caught fire and led to the deaths of not only her mother, but also her younger sister and nephew. Her brother, twin of the sister who perished, managed to survive, but is deeply scarred, physically and emotionally.
As she’d done previously, Elena shared this sorrow on Facebook. I frantically sought out news channels to read or hear the devastating story. There was an outpouring of love and prayers for her well-being online, which I expect was a tiny portion of the full outpouring of sympathy toward Elena and her remaining siblings. I no longer lived in the same state, but I conveyed my sorrow via Facebook as well as possible through long, supportive messages over the following months. I responded to her posts with encouragement, instead of mere “likes.” I don’t know if Elena felt her sorrow was halved by sharing it, but I’d like to think so. Online messages of love are appreciated, I’m sure, but they can’t compete with being enfolded in someone’s arms while hearing words of comfort.
I was able to share tears and a long, close hug. I told her I loved her, and I’m grateful for that moment.
Last year, I was delighted to provide both of those things. I was invited to speak to a group of students and faculty at Tulsa Community College, Elena’s alma mater, about my first memoir, Mother of My Invention. I was thrilled to see Elena arrive just before the event began. Afterwards, when she asked me to sign her copy of the book, I was able to share tears and a long, close hug. I told her I loved her, and I’m grateful for that moment.
I had the privilege of teaching hundreds of students during my eight-year later-life teaching career, but Elena is special. She and I started at the Margaret Hudson Program for pregnant and parenting teens the same year. She was in my environmental science class, when I was a novice teacher. While Elena excelled in all her classes, it was a terrible year for me. I was a veteran in the practice of science, but I was totally unprepared for the challenges of teaching it. Elena was the only student I felt comfortable admitting my failure to early in my second year. She smiled shyly and said, “you were fine.” I knew I’d not been fine, but students like Elena motivated me to become the kind of teacher she and the other girls deserved.
After moving from Oklahoma to Texas in 2019, I’m limited to learning news of former students via Facebook, and I’m thankful so many former students are still active there. When I saw Elena’s recent post, full of pictures and video, I was overjoyed. She posted a video of the mariachi band that came to her home, where her friends and family were gathered. The mariacheros sang in the background while her fiancé proposed. On one knee, with a large bouquet of beautiful flowers. You’ve got to love a guy like that!
All I can say is Elena’s man better treat her well. If joy is doubled when shared and sorrow is halved, I’m unclear what the divisor or multiplier is for anger. It may well be triple or more.
When was the last time your joy was doubled by sharing–or you shared in someone else’s joy?
Janice Airhart 