After the success of Depois é nunca , with more than sixty thousand copies sold, Carpinejar, winner of the Jabuti Prize, delves deeper into his look at farewell in the moving Manual do luto .
If in "After is Never" he explained that grief is not a disease and that it lasts a lifetime, Carpinejar achieves the impossible: going even further in his attempt to portray the suffering of longing. Now he speaks directly to the bereaved. Each chapter is a letter, and each letter, a lesson in empathy.
It addresses all the pains of the world, describes the most serious and poignant losses in existence: of parents, of a friend, of a brother, of a son, of a husband or a wife.
He compares mourning to a tireless work of pruning memory, of existential cleansing, in which every goodbye would be the equivalent of inheriting a piece of land to build a house on.
“There’s nothing there, just weeds and rubble,” he concludes.
With his poetic x-ray gaze, the writer sees the social invisibility of those going through this period marked by confusion and deprivation.
"You must be feeling invisible. The death of someone close to us makes us invisible. We cross a portal to an alternate dimension of routine. We are unseen, not perceived as before. It's as if grief were a magical cloak of social disappearance.
You also didn't see the mourners before your loss. They lacked prominence, consistency, importance, or depth. They resembled beings from a secondary planet, disconnected from the normalcy and perfection you'd previously enjoyed. And they weren't even acting maliciously; their disinterest stemmed from a lack of connection with the reality of goodbye.
Now it seems like all the grief is evident right next to you. If you're an orphan, you keep noticing orphans in your neighborhood. They've always been there, close and accessible. You just didn't notice because the third eye of suffering hadn't yet appeared on your forehead.
Even those who haven't lost a loved one will surrender to the inventory of absences and, for a moment, imagine what their absence would mean in their routine.
May the Grief Manual serve as a warning not to postpone any further affection, not to leave any fundamental friendship for later.
For, "if life is a breath, whistle." Sing loudly to your presence.