Not there yet: the effect of persistent grief on an immigrant's ability to assimilate

Grief is a component of immigration present no matter the time period or mode of migration. In the Distance by Hernan Diaz tells the story of a young Swedish immigrant to America during the 1800s gold rush as he traverses the country in search of his brother while Go, Went, Gone by Jenny Erpenbeck relays the contemporary stories of African refugees in Berlin, Germany seeking legal recognition as refugees so that they can remain and work in the country. The individual circumstances of the immigrants complicates their ability to process their grief, interfering with their assimilation to their new communities as they struggle to adapt to life far from home after experiencing substantial, continual losses. The economic and social landscape of the countries they migrate to further complicates both the mourning and assimilation processes as the immigrants struggle to communicate and relate to their counterparts in either the western territory of the United States or modern-day Berlin.

NOT THERE YET: THE EFFECT OF PERSISTENT GRIEF ON AN IMMIGRANT’S ABILITY TO ASSIMILATE by Camille Breiholz A Senior Honors Thesis Submitted to the Faculty of The University of Utah In Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements for the Honors Degree in Bachelor of Arts In English Approved: ______________________________ Michael Mejia, MFA Thesis Faculty Supervisor _____________________________ Scott Black, PhD Chair, Department of English _______________________________ Disa Gambera, PhD Honors Faculty Advisor _____________________________ Sylvia D. Torti, PhD Dean, Honors College May 2023 Copyright © 2023 All Rights Reserved ABSTRACT Grief is a component of immigration present no matter the time period or mode of migration. In the Distance by Hernan Diaz tells the story of a young Swedish immigrant to America during the 1800s gold rush as he traverses the country in search of his brother while Go, Went, Gone by Jenny Erpenbeck relays the contemporary stories of African refugees in Berlin, Germany seeking legal recognition as refugees so that they can remain and work in the country. The individual circumstances of the immigrants complicates their ability to process their grief, interfering with their assimilation to their new communities as they struggle to adapt to life far from home after experiencing substantial, continual losses. The economic and social landscape of the countries they migrate to further complicates both the mourning and assimilation processes as the immigrants struggle to communicate and relate to their counterparts in either the western territory of the United States or modern-day Berlin. ii TABLE OF CONTENTS ABSTRACT ii INTRODUCTION 1 GRIEF AND MOURNING 2 HÅKAN’S IMMIGRATION 7 HÅKAN’S GRIEF 11 THE REFUGEES AND RICHARD 26 THE REFUGEES’ GRIEF 30 CONCLUSION 41 iii 1 INTRODUCTION Grief is a strong component of the immigrant experience. The grieving process weaves a complex web for immigrants to navigate as grief impacts many, if not all, other elements of life. Grief takes multiple forms, going beyond the most typical association of grief over the loss of a family member or close friend. Immigrants face grief related to leaving behind their home country, both in terms of the physical space and the people and relationships left behind. While attempting to adjust to life in their new home, immigrants must navigate the feelings associated with grief and learn how other cultures manage grief and emotions. Two novels about immigration, Go, Went, Gone by Jenny Erpenbeck and In the Distance by Hernan Diaz, capture different types of grief, the way these different types of grief interact with each other, and the way grief impacts other aspects of the characters’ lives. Both novels explore grief relating to the separation from family or the death of close family members as well as other examples of post-migratory loss and the resulting impact of this grief on life after immigration. While the novels deal with similar themes of grief, each takes place in a distinct culture and time, demonstrating the widespread impact that grief has across time and place. The grief that the immigrants experience in these novels serves as a sense of nostalgia, one last connection to their lives before immigration and to their past as a whole, preventing them from becoming fully integrated and invested in their new countries as they struggle to overcome their accumulated losses. 2 GRIEF AND MOURNING Most often grief is associated with death. Grief is thought to be what someone experiences following the death of someone close to or important to them, a way to categorize and explain the emotions that one is going through as they progress and revert through the traditional stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. However, while “death-related loss may be the…most total loss…it is not the only event that initiates grieving reactions” (Casado et al. 612). The loss of any important relationship or association can result in experiencing grief, such as the loss of possessions, a job, a change in belief system, the end of a relationship, or a change in surroundings (Casado et al. 612). Grief related to multiple types of loss can occur at the same time or be triggered by a more recent loss. In other words, “there is not a set pattern of reactions or ways to behave in relation to grief” because each individual’s loss and experience of grief are unique (Lawrence 50). While grief is a universal experience that everyone goes through following a loss, the specifics of that response are unique to the individual. The uniqueness of grief not only depends on the individual’s experiences, but also on their culture. Grief exists in a social context dictated in large part by the culture the person is from as well as by the majority culture of the area they live in; cultures express grief differently and have differing expectations of those experiencing a loss (Robson and Walter 98). Some cultures may handle loss individually and privately while others may encourage a communal, public expression of loss. Within a culture, mourning practices may vary depending on class as well. For example, wealthier subsets of a culture may have larger public celebrations and rituals to commemorate the dead while lower-class 3 families may have simpler versions of the same rituals or completely different rituals limited to the immediate family or community of the deceased person. Mourning practices differ across cultures and within them, emphasizing the diversity in ways that people express and experience their grief. Another important distinction regarding loss is that between grief and mourning. Most often, grief is the internal reaction to loss while mourning is the “behavioral manifestations of that loss” (Lawrence 50). Furthermore, bereavement is the long-term reaction and processing of a loss (Lawrence 50). The expression of grief, the mourning behaviors, is culturally determined and impacts the way an individual and their community experience and processes their grief. Within this cultural context, different “grief responses” are exhibited, which are the choices individuals make to “express and cope” with their grief (Lawrence 51). As previously described above, the culture may dictate or set expectations for post-death behaviors, but the way individuals interpret and express these conventions differs. An individual’s grief is impacted by the type of loss they experience as well as cultural expectations. Two prominent categories that divide loss and grief are the “physical (tangible) loss of loved ones or personal possessions; and…[the] symbolic (abstract) loss of status, social role, identity, as well as the loss of native language, homeland, and familiar environment” (Nesteruk). Each type of loss can have a profound impact on those affected, and one loss does not inherently have a greater impact than another. Immigrants and refugees often experience multiple types of loss simultaneously as they are uprooted from their homeland, come to occupy a different sector of society than they previously may have been accustomed to, frequently leave behind—or lose 4 along the way—close family members, and must adjust to a completely new culture. The simultaneous experience of multiple types of loss can lead to complex grief that is complicated to resolve. This type of loss is referred to as “ambiguous loss,” a loss that is “unclear, incomplete or partial” and often is an extended or “lifelong experience” (Nesteruk). People going through ambiguous loss lack a finite way to describe or experience their grief; the multi-faceted loss they experience as a part of their immigration bleeds into their life in their adoptive country and impacts their experience there. Conflicts among the different types of grief and the different culturallyappropriate expressions of grief can lead to what is known as disenfranchised grief. In their article “Measuring Migratory Grief and Loss Associated with the Experience of Immigration,” Casado et al. describe that “disenfranchised grief occurs when individuals experience a loss but are unable to express their feelings of grief because such loss is not recognized and grieving emotions are not socially recognized or acceptable” (612). For those experiencing disenfranchised grief, the type of loss they experience is not common in the cultural context they find themselves in, so expressing grief regarding their loss is not understood by others in their community. Disenfranchised grief can result due to multiple reasons, such as the “lack of acknowledgement [of the loss], the nature of the loss, the griever’s attributes…and the lack of validation for the way an individual grieves” (Barney and Yoshimura 85). As immigrant and refugees’ experiences may be uncommon in relation to most of the population of their adoptive country, much of the grief they experience is disenfranchised grief as they feel a general lack of acknowledgment for the profound losses they have experienced, and the active losses 5 they continue to experience as they are separated from their family and homeland. Immigrants also face an expectation to integrate into their new country quickly, developing a productive role and life in their new community. As they experience distress at the extensive losses they have endured, immigrants are simultaneously expected to adjust to their new culture without being given the space or acknowledgement to process their grief. The intense expectations of immigrants coupled with the lack of acknowledgement for regarding their circumstances heightens the disenfranchised grief they must cope with. Experiencing disenfranchised grief impacts the way that the individual responds and reacts to their loss, but also others’ perspective of them. While describing the perceived hierarchies of loss in their article, Robson and Walter state that “to be disenfranchised implies second class status and subjugation: this is not a neutral concept but one with clear moral and/or political overtones” (99). As a consequence of their immigrant status, immigrants are often not treated as equal to citizens in their host country; they are below the citizens already living in the country. As the immigrants already have less respect and rights from the communities they move into, of course their grief is not treated with the same dignity and respect of the dominant culture. Not only may others not be able to relate to the immigrant or refugee’s experiences, but their desire to empathize and understand the immigrant’s loss and the impact of that loss may be reduced because of their relative status in society. For some, the complexity of the immigrant experience is not worthy of acknowledgement. They see immigrants as less than and subsequently treat them as such. 6 The subjugation of immigrant experiences and leads to further “othering” of the immigrants and refugees who are already a minority in their adoptive country. Many immigrants and refugees migrating to the United States and Western European countries are not the same race as the majority of the population. The observable, physical differences of the immigrants is accompanied by an emotional distinction as well. Refugee and immigrant populations are “othered” not just because of the differences in their pasts and personal experiences but because they literally do not “blend in” with their new community. When people perceive someone as being different from them on a superficial level, they are more likely to assume that they cannot relate to them on other aspects of life either. Not only are people’s understanding of grief impacted by social norms, but they are also impacted by their own personal experiences of grief. If someone’s personal experiences of loss and grief are far-removed from that of the immigrants in their community, they are less likely to try to understand what the immigrant is going through (Robson and Walter 108). Grief may be the result of a loss, or losses, that an individual goes through, but the experience of that grief is greatly impacted by the individual’s own culture, the cultural context they find themselves in, others’ perceptions of their grief, and the other losses that coincide with their immigration journey. 7 HÅKAN’S IMMMIGRATION Hernan Diaz’s novel In the Distance follows Håkan, a young Swedish boy, who is sent to America alongside his older brother Linus by their father in hopes of his sons developing a better life. From an isolated farm north of Lake Tystnaden in Sweden, Håkan’s only knowledge about the United States comes from the elaborate stories that Linus tells him. Although Linus does not actually have a more extensive knowledge of the United States than his younger brother, Håkan believes Linus’ tales to be true. The two brothers were supposed to create their life in America together; however, upon arriving in Portsmouth, England, to take their final boat to New York, Håkan finds himself suddenly separated from his brother. The brothers “were sucked in by the current of people bustling up and down the main road” (Diaz 13). Distracted by the wonders of the city around him compared to his small Swedish village, Håkan loses focus on his brother until he “looked to his right, and his brother was gone” (Diaz 13). In a panic, Håkan gets “on a crate, short-breathed and trembling, [and] screamed his brother’s name” (Diaz 13). Unfortunately, Håkan cannot find his brother on the wharf so he frantically asks someone on the dock which boat is going to America. Unable to communicate in English and unaware of the vastness of the country he is headed to, he believes he may be able to find Linus once onboard what he believes is his ship bound for New York. Upon boarding the ship, and discovering that Linus is not onboard, Håkan instead finds himself surrounded by other immigrants bound for United States and not comforted by the presence of his older brother. Although unable to speak English and reluctant to interact with the other immigrants at first, Håkan soon meets the Brennan family who become his first travel 8 companions in America. The Brennans, an Irish family, are headed to the Western United States in hopes of finding gold and invite Håkan to join them. Instead of arriving in New York as Håkan anticipates, the boat docks in San Francisco. Not deterred by the “months since they had set sail,” Håkan accepts that in order to be reunited with Linus, he must “[traverse] a whole continent” (Diaz 16). The Brennans arrive in the United States aware of the where they need to go, with some possessions, and speaking English. Although not substantial, compared to Håkan they have more wealth and resources to establish their life in the United States. Håkan is essentially at their mercy, performing whatever labor they ask and eating their scraps. As he still cannot communicate much in English, he cannot advocate for himself either. Not long after discovering gold in the desert, Håkan is taken captive by a woman from a nearby town called Clangston. His captor mimics the opulence she associates with success in America, dressing Håkan in lavish clothing before she interacts with him each time, often sexually assaulting him afterwards as well. Taken from the Brennans in the same manner as she takes their goldmine, the woman treats Håkan as a commodity. Finding gold is visible mark of success in the American West, and dressing Håkan in his costumes further fabricates the woman’s fantasy of American success, elevating her perceived status and power. Eventually Håkan escapes his captor and journeys into the vast desert by himself for the first time. Håkan’s next significant travel partner is a doctor and scientist named Lorimer. Lorimer mentors Håkan, teaching him about the human body, how to perform basic procedures, and passing on his knowledge of the human’s relation to nature. As they traverse the desert together, they teach each other their respective languages, 9 equipping Håkan with a way to communicate somewhat effectively for the first time since arriving in America. Lorimer provides Håkan wealth distinct from the materialistic and capitalistic wealth driving westward expansion. Instead of giving Håkan money or land, Lorimer imparts knowledge and skills, as well as some resources, on Håkan. Showing Håkan for the first time a different mark of American success. During their journey together Håkan and Lorimer come across a massacre of a group of Native people. They stop to help the wounded as best as they can alongside the tribe’s own healer, allowing Håkan space to interact with a different culture within America and to practice the skills Lorimer taught him. After separating from Lorimer and spending time alone in the desert once again, Håkan comes across a large wagon train heading West. Although moving in the opposite direction as New York, Håkan joins the train in exchange for the potential resources he might be able to gain from the group. Once again, Håkan is commodified by the leader of the train, using Håkan’s immense size as a source of intimidation and protection from the other members of the wagon train, allowing the leader to maintain his power. After the wagon train encounters a group of violent, religious extremists, causing Håkan to act violently for the first time in his life, he leaves the wagon train and finds himself living as an outlaw, avoiding any people and the perception they might hold of him. When he does ultimately venture into a town, he is captured by the sheriff and paraded from town to town, serving as a symbol of the sheriff’s prowess and success to the residents of each town that he was able to capture the mythical “Hawk,” as Håkan had come to be known. Eventually sickened by the sheriff’s cruel treatment of Håkan, one of his men, Asa, aids Håkan in his escape. Again, Håkan finds himself with a companion, 10 willing to help him in his mission to find Linus and showing Håkan the humanity that exists in America, despite the focus of westward expansion on individual greed and success. Ultimately, Håkan ends up trekking across the West alone, returning to Clangston before meeting a man who gives Håkan a position on his freight ship in Alaska. In the Distance begins with the older, adult Håkan relaying his journey to the other passengers on this ship in Alaska. As he describes his cyclical story to them, a story of repeated grief, repetitive walking, and revisiting where his American quest began, he decides that it is time for him to head home, what he had arguably been in search of the entire time and walks off on the ice to Sweden in the distance. His entire trek throughout the American West lasts from the time he is a child until he is an older adult. He is driven by his hope of reconnecting with his brother, his one fragment of home in America, and is intensely impacted by his grief stemming from their original separation in Europe. Håkan’s loss of Linus before even reaching the coast of America propels his journey for decades to come. 11 HÅKAN’S GRIEF Although en route to a country larger than Håkan can imagine, his separation from his brother is not final in his mind. Rather than accepting that they will be unable to find each other in such a vast and unfamiliar land, Håkan convinces himself that a reunification is the only possible outcome. “All Håkan had to do was get [to New York]. Then, Linus would find him” because “New York was the only place…in America they both were able to name,” making New York the clear meeting place in his mind for the brothers to reconnect (Diaz 17). Initially, and for many years to come, Håkan is in denial over the finality of the loss of his separation from Linus. Because of his denial, Håkan attempts to traverse the entire country to find his brother, leading him to interact with and get taken advantage of by many people along the way. In his steadfast commitment to reunification with Linus, Håkan’s mourning prevents him from accepting his loss and adjusting to his new reality. As a “mourner” he held out “too much hope for a reversal of a circumstance,” which made “acceptance of reality…impossible” (Lawrence 52). At times, Håkan acknowledges his grief, but not in the manner of processing his loss and moving on to what his future life in America may hold, but instead as an acceptance that his sorrow over the separation from Linus is a permanent part of him. Unlike many immigrants to America, Håkan is not concerned with assimilating and adjusting to American culture, nor is he preoccupied with acquiring the material wealth associated with westward expansion during the 1800s. His sole intent upon docking in San Francisco is to locate his brother. Håkan is not exclusively moving against American migration physically as he is heading east opposed to west, but also symbolically as his goals and desires depart from the typical purpose associated with 12 westward migration. Håkan’s multifaceted contradiction to the expectations of immigrants prevent him from assimilating into American culture and gaining the broad acceptance of those he encounters along his journey. One instance of Håkan’s acknowledgement of his grief is when he is first taken captive in Clangston. He sleeps in a bed for the first time since leaving Sweden many months before and thinks, “It felt good to be in a bed, hurting, alone. And it felt good to slide into the deepest sadness he had experienced since losing Linus. His grief was indistinguishable from his ease” (Diaz 32). At this moment, Håkan’s grief over Linus is compounded by his separation from the Brennans, his first source of connection since losing Linus. Instead of transferring his anguish over Linus to his current situation he allows the grief to accumulate and describes the “deep sadness” as feeling “good” (Diaz 32). At this point, Håkan’s grief is a part of his identity; it has defined him since he first arrived in America. Instead of creating a new American persona, Håkan almost relishes in his sorrow and lets that guide him. His goal is not to find Linus then to create an American life, rather his goal is to solely find his brother. He does not have ambition beyond this, creating an internal conflict alongside an increased incompatibility with himself and the widely held notions of immigration and migration at this time. Håkan’s focus is not on improving his current situation or what his current situation might entail for his future, but instead he focuses on the potential impact it may have on his reunification with Linus. He does not attempt to end his grief but accepts that it is an integral part of him; his grief over Linus will always be with him. 13 In their article regarding grief and disenfranchised identity, Barney and Yoshimura describe the common two-fold reaction to a significant relational loss similar to Håkan’s experience of losing Linus: Those who have lost a close relationship partner commonly report a deep sense of isolation stemming from the loss of the physical presence of the loved individual. Yet, the perceived isolation that follows a loss can also coexist with a strong sense of a continued, committed relationship with the person they have lost – an individual with whom they can no longer interact and maintain the relationship in traditionally communicative ways. (Barney and Yoshimura 80) Upon his initial realization that Linus is not onboard the ship to America with him, Håkan retreats into himself, “he refused to speak” and “shied away from all company” (Diaz 14). Overcome by the absence of his greatest companion, Håkan isolates himself from forming social relationships with others. Although in close quarters with many immigrants on the ship, without Linus by his side Håkan felt alone. In addition to this sense of isolation, Håkan’s hope of reuniting with Linus maintains his close relationship with him. While physically isolated in his room in Clangston, Håkan visualizes his eventual reconnection with Linus, imagining how “he would arrive a grown man…with tales of his own” to share with his brother after crossing an entire continent (Diaz 33). Not only does he fantasize about the details and potential of their reunion, but he also describes an ethereal connection to Linus illustrated by hours spent “staring out at the desert” through the barred window “hoping Linus would feel his gaze” (Diaz 38). At least at the beginning of his journey, his commitment to his brother 14 does not wane, emphasizing the extended impact of his loss. However, as the story continues, Håkan forms other relationships that shift his understanding of his brother. Each time Håkan faces the death of or separation from a person close to him, his entire world stops for a moment. He does not know how to move past the grief, so he instead incorporates it into every aspect of his life. Like his separation from Linus, when his mentor and travel companion Lorimer is close to death he: [m]issed [him] in the same way (if not with the same intensity) that he missed Linus. Both had protected him, deemed him deserving of their attention, and even seen in him qualities worth fostering. But the main virtue his brother and the naturalist shared was their ability to endow the world with meaning. (Diaz 75) Ultimately, Håkan’s relationship with Lorimer fills a hole left by the loss of Linus. He sought someone to protect him, give him attention, and give him purpose in life. Lorimer fulfills these needs not only through his mentorship and companionship but through instilling a new passion in Håkan of science and medicine. Instead of solely focusing on his grief, Håkan found an outlet that “encourage[d] meaning” in his life and mitigate[d] the hopelessness of chronic grief” (McLellan 134). Assisting Lorimer with his experiments begins to push Håkan beyond the endless cycle of mourning Linus. Lorimer is the first person in America to treat Håkan as somewhat of a peer and equal, all his other interactions are marked with a sense of superiority and domination by the other party. As a result of Håkan traveling alone and speaking very limited English, the Brennans are able to make Håkan feel dependent on them for his survival and success, even though they are using him to help them further their goals opposed to helping him connect with Linus. In Clangston, Håkan is once again exploited and used to 15 further the woman’s sense of power. Conversely, Lorimer seeks to widen Håkan’s perspective through sharing his scientific knowledge with Håkan, helping Håkan discover for himself the wonders of the world rather than taking and exploiting what is someone else’s. Håkan practices and extends what he learns from Lorimer later in his journey, prolonging his survival in the desert through his own means as an alternative to stealing from others, as had been demonstrated to him prior in his travels. However, the impending, potential death of Lorimer is a reiteration of what Håkan went through when he was separated from Linus. Just as Lorimer is helping him find purpose in life not propelled solely by his grief, the almost-death of his new, close companion catapults him back into a state of chronic desolation. Håkan’s losses are what drive his life. He can never truly settle into life in America because he cannot overcome the initial loss of Linus and subsequent losses result in an accumulation of intense, prolonged grief. As previously discussed, Håkan’s goals associated with his migration through America are contrary to those of the typical immigrant. This, together with continual bereavement, prevent him from ever starting the assimilation process. His inability to and lack of desire to resolve his past traumas hinders his progress, compared to the typical immigrant, in America. For this reason, he continually moves around the country in search of Linus, or in search of filling the hole that Linus left behind. Given that he cannot reconcile his grief with the expectations of life as an immigrant in America, he does not form an association with any particular place as home thus far, leaving him to wander the country, anticipating his reunion with Linus to end his alienation from the foreign land he arrived in. 16 While dealing with his own grief as he journeys through the desert, Håkan witnesses the grieving rituals of other cultures as well. Up until this point, Håkan deals with his grief primarily internally, managing to convey to those he travels with parts of his intention to travel eastward, although undoubtedly some of his message is not understood or is ignored by his companions, as most likely they are more aware of the improbableness of his hope to cross an entire country and find one individual in the large city of New York than Håkan. Whether his counterparts understand his goal or not, Håkan expresses it not as an invitation to be a part of his mourning but more so as a statement of his mission. Håkan first witnesses any sort of mourning in America when Håkan and Lorimer’s first patient from the Native tribe they help dies. He notes that “there was no rage; there were no plaintive cries; there were not even tears” (Diaz 87). Håkan is surprised to see that their response to death was “remarkably similar to how people mourned in Sweden,” or at the least the part of Sweden he was familiar with (Diaz 87). Thousands of miles away, in the middle of the American West, Håkan is reminded of home. He is reminded that others grieve and experience loss, and that they do so as a community. Preceding this encounter, Håkan does not identify or relate to any of the people he interacts with. He does not see a reflection of himself or his culture in American life. Not until he is interacting with a group of Natives who had survived a violent attack on their community, does he empathize with them. As evidenced by the massacre Håkan comes across, Native people were brutalized by westward expansion, exploited and commodified by those seeking to dominate the “new” landscape and 17 establish their wealth and power, similarly, although to a much greater scale, to how Håkan was treated prior to meeting Lorimer. As Håkan and Lorimer’s goals for their journeys diverge, they decide to part ways. Lorimer gifts Håkan tools to help him on his eastward voyage, including a horse and burro. Equipped with Lorimer’s gifts and directions, Håkan feels for the first time that instead of being trapped in the West which he has come to recognize as a “landscape of expectation” and “traumatic experiences of precarity,” he is instead in a tangible territory with a more concrete route toward his destination (Campbell 111, 118). Håkan feels that the horse that Lorimer gifts him elevates his status dramatically, creating a sense of pride in himself instead of the shame and alienation he feels for the first portion of his journey across America. He recounts that “nobody in Sweden, not even the most powerful person he had ever met…owned a horse” (Diaz 95). To Håkan, he has achieved a profound mark of wealth and prestige. He imagines himself in the context of his village in Sweden, not the American landscape he is actually in. By American standards Håkan’s accumulation of wealth is minute, which he soon realizes when his horse eventually dies and he is unable to purchase another. Håkan’s stability in America is precarious and fleeting. His insecurity is magnified by his grief. He wishes that “Linus could only see him, riding through the grasslands on his bay roan—and with a burro in tow!” (Diaz 95). His own sense of pride at his change in status is undercut by his yearning for Linus to be proud of him as well. Treating his animal companions as substitutes for his brotherly connection with Linus, Håkan becomes deeply attached to both the horse, Pingo, and his burro. Despite his previous losses, Håkan is still devasted when Pingo eventually dies, yet another loss 18 compounding his grief. As Pingo lies dying following an infection from a procedure Håkan performs on him, Håkan “held him tight[ly] and wept” before cutting “through his cava and carotid” to end his suffering (Diaz 101). Not only did Håkan lose another close travel companion with Pingo’s death, but he also lost a source of his pride, status, and the perceived pride that Linus would have in him. With the death of Pingo, Håkan loses both his material markers of wealth and status, but also an emotional marker of peace and accomplishment in America. By owning a horse, Håkan feels that he achieved something beyond what he or his family had in Sweden. He finally is on the path to the better life his father sent his sons to America to have. Through his internal feelings of achievement, Håkan begins to somewhat assimilate to life in America, but when Pingo dies, so does Håkan’s sense of conformity with the standards of American materialism and success. Shortly after the tragic death of his horse, Håkan changes his trajectory and joins a wagon train heading west. While Håkan travels with this train as a source of employment and means to get another horse, the wagon train is also where he develops his first intimate relationship with a girl named Helen. He remarks on the fondness with which he watches Helen and the jealousy he feels when he sees her care tenderly for others. Alongside the new emotions Helen elicits in Håkan, she is also one of the first people in America to attempt to bridge the cultural gap between him and the settlers by understanding a significant part of Håkan’s identity: the proper pronunciation of his name (Diaz 127). Helen subsequently writes his name down on a piece of paper that he “would keep for years, thinking each time he looked at it, that he was there—in those fading lines on that yellowing scrap of wrapping through which an irretrievable past managed to persist in the present” (Diaz 127). Until connecting with Helen, Håkan’s identity had 19 been essentially denied by the people around him. His name, and by extension his identity, was irrelevant to his past companions. Håkan serves as a tool to help his many of prior companions either achieve their goals or reinforce their sense of power and status. Through his commodification, Håkan is prevented from finding a place for himself in America. Helen’s kindness and acknowledgement of Håkan’s identity and past create space for him to exist in the context of westward migration, creating an almost imperceptible community for Håkan. In order to process grief and adapt to a home, community is essential, but Håkan was previously denied the opportunity to form these connections. Håkan is reminded of this first sense of community in America each time he looks at his name on the piece of paper, and instead of shoving his past aside, lets it coexist with the present. With Helen’s murder Håkan experiences grief over a violent death for the first time, as well as grief over his own actions as he kills countless of the wagon train’s attackers after seeing Helen raped. Now coupled with the isolation and sadness of the many relational and status losses he has experienced so far on his journey, Håkan also feels intense shame over his actions and others’ perceptions of him. One of his first thoughts after departing from the wagon train is Linus’ expected opinion of the new person Håkan has become should they never be reunited: Would he ever confess to Linus what he had done? Håkan remembered his brother’s boastful stories, full of heroic deeds and displays of courage; and the mere thought that Linus might be impressed by his killings saddened him. Having experienced violence firsthand, Håkan realized now that all those childhood tales had to have been made up. Nobody could commit or witness those barbaric acts 20 with such giddiness. And he preferred to think the stories were false rather than to even consider that his brother had felt such frivolous delight at bloodshed. (Diaz 136) For the first time since immigrating to America, Håkan begins to question the ideal of his brother he has been holding in his head all this time. No longer is Håkan convinced that his brother could do no wrong and is an ideal to aspire to, but instead he questions what he knew of his brother. As he is not a child anymore, Håkan is developing his own set of morals that guide his behavior and his feelings surrounding his own actions. Throughout his trek through the desert, Håkan’s imagined Linus provides him with a barometer of moral behavior, making Linus proud gives Håkan something to strive for. Håkan resumes his travel toward New York, still hoping to reconnect with his brother, but with a more developed sense of him. Håkan’s changing perspective of Linus’ character demonstrates ways in which experiences impact grief as time passes. From the time Håkan begins his quest across America to find his brother, the reality of life in America is in sharp disagreement with the fantasyland his brother describes, but Håkan remains in denial until he personally acts violently. Previously, when he was a victim of exploitation and violence, he did not recognize the impact of these behaviors. He managed to maintain his naivety up until he murders many people out of impulse. At this moment he the recognizes the truth of America, the violence that characterizes the opportunity in this land and the contradictory nature of that method of success with his personal morals and perception of his brother. The shock of what it takes to be prosperous in the American West causes Håkan to retreat from society completely, 21 avoiding even being within sight of other travelers. Håkan essentially becomes a symbol of the depravity overwhelming the western territory. Håkan’s final substitute for Linus is Asa, his captor-turned-savior from the sheriff. The sheriff’s intense cruelty and commodification of Håkan serves as a means to further develop his own wealth and status. After initially capturing Håkan, the sheriff hand-stitches a “coarse, irregular cross…onto his chest, right over his heart” as a symbol that the sheriff restored Jesus back into the monster that is Håkan (Diaz 169). This is part of the sheriff’s ruse as he parades Håkan from town to town asking for donations to help ensure the “brethren slaughterer” is brought to justice, while he actually keeps the money for personal gain (Diaz 170). After they run away from the other captors, Håkan finds comfort in Asa, reminding him of Linus: Out of the night and in between [Asa’s] heartbeats, Linus’s face came forth in [Håkan’s] mind. The picture of his brother, who had protected him from hunger, cold, and pain, had always come to him as the very image of safety. Until now. Linus’s features became clearer, he saw something different—a child. The Linus he had loved and lost was a child. (Diaz 193) As Håkan seeks safety in Asa, the ideal of Linus that he has held in his head since their separation begins to dissipate further. While his reflections on the murders make Håkan question the validity of Linus’ tales, being with Asa results in Håkan picturing the truth of the Linus he lost. Linus was not a brave, strong, all-protective man, but a young child as well. Håkan’s memories and perceptions of Linus created their brotherly bond and were “freighted with meaning, and the sudden loss of these moments [left] a vast emptiness” for Håkan to deal with (Hibberd 683). For years, he trudges through this void, 22 through the desert, all in hopes of erasing the emptiness once he finds Linus. Now, with Asa, Håkan finally begins to recognize the reality of his situation, the reality that his grief completely clouded until now. Håkan cries after this realization as, “[h]e had outgrown his older brother. [And] never again would he find that comfort and safety in Linus’s image” (Diaz 193). While Håkan’s grief does not disappear in this moment, his perspective shifts again and he begins to slowly move out of the past and into the current and future life he may have in America. For years, his chronic grief over Linus was compounded with subsequent losses that prevented him from moving on and accepting and adapting to life in America. When he would begin to establish connection with other individuals or communities, such as he did with Lorimer, the Native people, and Helen, he is cut off from further situating himself in American migratory culture. While he forms relationships with people and traverses many different landscapes and situations, each of these is driven by his grief over the loss of Linus. Before traveling with Asa, Håkan’s journey is directed eastward, although much of it was stagnated somewhat in the middle, heading neither east toward his goals nor west toward the ambiguous land of American opportunity. Now he and Asa deliberately choose to migrate west, believing this to be the direction of their best chance at freedom from persecution, although they move as outlaws, in contrast to the economic freedom many westward migrants were in search of. Just as Lorimer instills purpose into Håkan’s life, Asa begins to do the same. The widely held perception of Håkan as a murderer of many people including women and Helen made him want to “shun society…forever. But the world had returned. Asa had brought it back to him, brimming with meaning and purpose” (Diaz 194). Håkan feels 23 Asa’s devotion is like that of Linus’ as he not only helps him escape captivity but continues to protect and express gratitude to Håkan. Desperate for a source of connection and guidance after his change of perspective on Linus, Håkan discovers a new source of hope in Asa. Asa anchors Håkan to life in America and helps guide him through the next part of his journey. Although he had a goal of finding Linus, Håkan essentially wandered aimlessly through America, not fully knowing how to accomplish his goal and not completely tethered to either his current life or his past life. Håkan’s shift in perspective is further developed following a conversation with Asa in which he tells Håkan of a potential way he may be able to keep himself safe and find Linus. After this conversation, “[s]omething within Håkan melted. Only now, as it softened and evaporated, did he realize that for years he had lived with a frozen lump in his chest. Only now…did he feel how much pain this cold shrapnel had caused him” (Diaz 195). The lump and cold shrapnel Håkan refers to is his grief over Linus and their separation in Europe all those years ago. Only as he is with Asa, who seems to provide a realistic way to connect Håkan to New York and subsequently to his brother, does Håkan’s grief start to leave him. Before Asa, Håkan almost completely dealt with his grief on his own. Lorimer directed him toward New York and the wagon train provided him with supplies, but Asa is the first person to show Håkan care and empathy in trying to reconnect him with his long-lost brother. Through relinquishing part of his grief to Asa, the responsibility of getting to New York, Håkan realizes that holding on to his grief over Linus led to constant pain and heartache. His grief was so great and integrated into every aspect of his life that it physically weighed him down as he attempted to navigate life in America and life in general on his own for the first time. 24 Asa acts as an ally for Håkan, someone invested in Håkan’s wellbeing opposed to someone only concerned with their own success and how Håkan can aide them in achieving that. In spite of being in America for years, Håkan is not integrated into American life. He is just moving across the land, forming minimal connections due to his incapacity to process his emotions and prior traumas. Asa provides Håkan the necessary, sustained connection to begin to gradually assimilate into America as his grief regarding Linus begins to disperse. Håkan says that “love and longing had kept him going,” but incorporated into this love and longing is an intense grief that prevents him from realizing the hopeless reality of his search (Diaz 196). Not only is his longing fraught with grief, but through shouldering his grief on his own, he neglects to even acknowledge the intensity and depth of the grief he is experiencing. With Asa fulfilling deep, unmet needs Håkan held for years through his care of, protection of, and companionship to Håkan, Håkan is once again decimated by the death of his close companion. He responds similarly to the way he did following Linus’ disappearance, a figurative death. Following Asa’s death, Håkan does not leave the cave they were seeking solace in until winter. During that time he “barely ate and left the chamber only a handful of times to fetch water;” his world “was reduced…each instant was a prison” (Diaz 204). Asa’s death debilitates Håkan to the point of barely functioning; while before he had the Brennans on the ship to force him to interact with society again, this time he is alone in the wilderness left to grapple with his loss on his own. Håkan’s grief over Asa’s death is so profound that “his pain, intense and deafening as it was, came to him as a remote echo of someone else’s scream” (Diaz 204). His body 25 does not know how to begin processing this grief, so instead he retreats into himself until he is ready to mourn how he previously did: by walking through the unknown land ahead. Håkan walks, propelled by his grief once again, until he stops because “there simply were no more steps to take” (Diaz 207). He builds a community for himself where he can finally feel settled. He builds a series of connected trenches that he lives in and constantly continues to build and repair, providing him with an external focus for his grief, much like his endless walking did when he first arrived in America. Within this settlement he finally: [s]topped conjuring up Helen’s and Asa’s faces, and they withdrew further into the blackness that had claimed them, although now and then they returned in flashes that Håkan always welcomed. These visits were brief but so vivid that they challenged the surrounding reality. (Diaz 212) Håkan stopping his decades of endless walking through the American West and deciding to dig his maze of rooms signifies his acceptance of the finality of the losses he has experienced. Håkan spent decades grieving and letting his grief drive his life. As he mentions, he does not forget about the important relationships he formed through his long journey, but they cease to occupy the majority of his thoughts and no longer drive his decisions. Instead, he remembers the people he has lost for what they contributed to his life, and the tragedies that accompanied the losses are only an element of these memories. 26 THE REFUGEES AND RICHARD Go, Went, Gone by Jenny Erpenbeck focuses on a recently retired German man, Richard, who interacts with a group of refugees that recently migrated to Germany via Italy from various African countries. The refugees are first brought to Richard’s attention because of their occupation and protest in the Alexanderplatz in Berlin. A group of refugees gather in front of the Town Hall to ask for work and “to remain in Germany” (Erpenbeck 10). The protest catches Richard’s attention and leads him to research more about refugees and African countries, attend local meetings, and eventually go to Oranienplatz where some refugees have been living in tents for more than a year (Erpenbeck 23). While Richard is grieving and adjusting to life following his retirement and the recent death of his wife, through his interactions with the African refugees he develops a deeper understanding of the complexities of grief as he listens to their stories of forced migration and the many losses they have experienced along the way as well as the losses they continue to experience in Germany. Richard lives on the outskirts of Berlin, in what was once considered East Germany for many years following World War II and the division of Germany and Berlin between the allied powers and the Soviet Union. By the time Richard interacts with the refugees, the Berlin Wall and the subsequent physical separation between the two parts of the city has been gone for many decades, yet Richard still often ruminates on what life was like in East Germany. Richard refers to his life prior to the reunification of Berlin as “Eastern times” and remarks at one point that this term “is such an interesting construction, with time being assigned a point of the compass. Now it’s the West for all time and in every cardinal direction in this city and land” (Erpenbeck 43). At this 27 moment, Richard acknowledges the major shift that took place in his recognition of his home. Even though he has not physically moved, he still lives in the same home he did prior to the reunification, he has had to adjust to a new way of life much like the refugees are forced to adjust to a new life in their host country. The adoption of Western German values and lifestyle was forced upon him, and the Eastern German values were largely dispelled and are now dominated by the values of the West. The East and West were not blended together as “reunification” suggests, rather, as Richard describes, it is the West all the time, in all parts of the city, even in what was once the “East.” Paired with his anguish over his wife’s death and his retirement from academia, Richard still grapples with reconciling his life in East Berlin with the new westernized Berlin he currently lives in. The realignment of Berlin and Germany affect Richard’s life in many ways, such as the route he takes to get certain places that the Berlin Wall used to block, what term he refers to the grocery store as, and even the size of his pension compared to his West German colleagues. Richard’s sense of nostalgia for a homeland that has been lost involuntarily is part of what allows him to connect with the refugees, or at least recognize some of the trials they face as they navigate an unfamiliar land. Erpenbeck’s novel reveals the grief that immigrants face after leaving behind family members, homelands, and former status due to their immigration. The immigrants in Go, Went, Gone are all refugees, immigrants that fled their home countries due to persecution and war. They did not immigrant by choice or because of the desire to live somewhere new but were forced to migrate in order to survive. While the refugees may return to their countries, albeit with great risk, Richard cannot return to his homeland as the borders of East Berlin were erased, merging it with West Berlin. Both Richard and 28 the refugees experienced times of war and the resulting economic and political instability in their respective home countries. Although the African refugees are evading dangerous situations or persecution in their home countries, they still grieve the loss of parts of their previous lives. The immigrants in Erpenbeck’s novel are not only faced with the difficulties of navigating grief resulting from their migration but are also met with convoluted legislation and bureaucracy that add on to the struggles they are faced with. After arriving in Europe, they realize they must now deal with “an elaborate bureaucracy that is unable or unwilling to treat Europe’s most recent migrants effectively and humanely” (Gully and Itagaki 262). In their contemporary circumstances, some of the refugees are still able to contact and communicate with the family members they were separated from or that they left behind in their home country, allowing for certain connections to be maintained over an increased distance. This is in contrast to Håkan’s immigration in In the Distance, in which he migrated during the 1800s prior to the invention of rapid forms of communication and multiple ways of interacting with people not physically present with him. Richard follows the group of African men as they attempt to become legally recognized refugees, as they are moved from location to location, experience frustrating changes in governmental agreements, and as they face an overall sense of uncertainty about their future. The refugees desperately want to find a space that they can fit into in German society, asking for the right to work and contribute, yet they are continually denied this prospect by the government, leaving the refugees without a sense of purpose as they must wait for the government to decide their status and therefore their fates. Through his interviews, interactions, and relationships with the refugees, Richard 29 becomes more dedicated to not only helping the refugees adapt to life in Germany, but also understanding the impact that immigration continues to have on their lives, even after many months and years have passed since the original migration for some of them. 30 THE REFUGEES’ GRIEF The immigrants all face trauma and loss before coming to Germany, adding to the additional grief they experience while migrating and being separated from their families. For example, Awad, one of the refugees, describes to Richard in one of his interviews with the Africans that when the war started in his country, “They took everything away from us: money, watches, phones, even our socks…It’s not easy, he says again…as if this were the end of the story” (Erpenbeck 61). Here, Awad discusses the loss of his material possessions and how that loss shaped his life. Awad continues, telling Richard, that before the war, “it was a good life…Then [his] father was shot” and Awad began to lose the life he was familiar with (Erpenbeck 60). Not only does Awad have to navigate the violent loss of his father, but he also must find a way to manage the loss of other elements of his life as well. While he is telling Richard the story of his father’s murder, Richard wants to respond, “but he can’t think of anything” to say (Erpenbeck 60). Richard exhibits common behavior of someone outside the tragedy being told about a personal loss. The article “A Death-Related Grief and Disenfranchised Identity” discusses the uncomfortableness that some people experience when discussing loss with others, “Non-bereaved counterparts might wish to be polite, or at the least not hurt or offend a bereaved individual…believing that asking about the deceased will upset the bereaved person” (Barney and Yoshimura 80). Richard is drawn to the refugees in part because of the parallels he begins to notice between his experiences with the erasure of East Germany and his subsequent adaption to life in a version of Germany unknown to him and the refugees’ plight of being in a completely unfamiliar land and culture. The overlap between Richard and the refugee’s experiences is what allows him to overcome 31 the initial uncomfortableness of asking the refugees about their losses, but the different degree of trauma contained in their losses forms a barrier preventing Richard from fully acknowledging and understanding Awad’s loss. The different levels and types of loss experienced by Richard and the refugees interfere with Richard’s comprehension of their grief, but the two parties also communicate in an intermediary language: Because the refugees speak a variety of different African languages and are not proficient in German, Richard conducts his interviews in bits of English and Italian, neither his nor the African refugees’ first language. In other words, the refugees are attempting to translate their experiences into a language most of them are not fluent in, furthering the disconnect between their experiences and Richard’s as he must parse out the meaning of their clipped sentences. Although Awad endured substantial loss before coming to Europe, he recognizes the impact of these losses and acknowledges that suppressing his grief could prevent him from adapting to life in Germany. He shares with Richard, “If you want to arrive somewhere, you can’t hide anything” (Erpenbeck 57). He is open with Richard regarding his past; he shares the effect that the violence he experienced in Ghana has on him and how it changed his life, and he repeatedly tells Richard that life after all these losses is not easy (Erpenbeck 61). However, he is aware that to successfully build a life in Germany, he cannot hide his past. Many of the other refugees have similar stories to Awad, emphasizing the multifaceted grief that the refugees experience before even immigrating. The rest of their journey is influenced by this intense grief that they go through in their home countries. The grief that the African refugees experience in migrating and during the immigration 32 journey itself carries over and affects their lives in Germany. The refugees cannot attempt to immediately integrate themselves into Germany society as a means to move past their pain because they are prevented from pursuing official employment due to German immigration laws. Instead, they are left to sit with their despair and attempt to justify the severity of their situation to gain legal refugee status. Their agency is stripped from them following their migration and arrival in Europe. Awad’s immigration story also demonstrates the degree to which pre-migratory losses affect the refugees’ lives post-immigration. Richard learns that Awad saw a psychiatrist after he was first placed in a home with other refugees in Germany. Richard inquires with one of the employees about Awad’s treatment and learns, “[Awad] couldn’t stop crying… sometimes for hours at a time. No one here knew what to do” (Erpenbeck 67). To the Germans, the grief the refugees experience is inexplicable; they do not know how to help them or solve their problems. The loss that Awad feels is so extensive that it transcends location and time. Leaving the place of his loss does not resolve his trauma, but instead cultivates his grief in additional ways because of the separation it creates between him and the Germans. Awad’s grief is compounded with additional stressors of his journey, such as the death of other refugees in his boat on the way to Italy and realizing that he must live in a tent once in Germany. Awad experiences a high level of “acute trauma, extensive social and family devastation, pervasive powerlessness, various hardships, and multiple losses” all in a short period of time, limiting his “capacity for adaptive integration” (McLellan 132). His sadness permeates his life and after being sent to the psychiatrist he appears to be able to cope with his grief more and function day-to-day. Awad experiences a “loss of 33 [his]…psychological health” after his migration, which further prevents his integration into German society as the employees do not know how to interact with him or help him. Sending Awad to a psychiatrist seems like a plausible solution, but the validity of his treatment may be less because the western therapist cannot relate to or understand the plight of an African refugee (McLellan 132). The Africans’ prolonged, chronic grief that bleeds into their lives in Germany is further evidenced in a conversation Richard has with Rashid, another refugee, about the pain that memories of the past carry for him. In this conversation, Rashid confesses to Richard “that not even his memories of his wonderful life with his family could console him, since these memories were bound up with the pain of his loss and that’s all there was. Rashid…wished he could cut off his memory. Cut it away” (Erpenbeck 277). The refugees struggle to seek solace in their pre-migration memories because they exacerbate the grief and loss they feel. Remembering the joyful moments from their past does not lead to a reprieve from their distress because even the joyful moments are now clouded with sadness as the refugees are perpetually separated from their families and unable to fully integrate into German society. However, Rashid’s desire to block out the positive memories of the past leads to a lack of “recognition of loss” and does not “enable mourning,” which prevent him from moving “toward a healthy pattern of integrating the past” (McLellan 134). When refugees do not integrate their past and present lives, “their risk for PTSD is radically increased” (McLellan 134). While Rashid does not want to consciously appreciate the good memories, for he feels that remembering them increases his pain, his refusal to acknowledge them hinders his ability to work through his grief. 34 Most parts of life remind the Africans of the loss they experienced and the positive parts that their lives used to hold, which prevents them from fully incorporating into their adoptive country. They feel a clear disconnect between the grief they have experienced that in unknown to the Germans, creating a barrier between the two groups of people. Because most of the refugees and the Germans come from cultures and countries very different from each other, the Germans are “less likely to feel empathy for non-westerners, as signified by the way in which the loss of different kinds of lives are treated” (Stone 6). The tremendous amount of loss, as well as the type of loss, that the refugees experience and witness is unrelatable to most of the Germans, decreasing the sympathy they feel for them and their desire to help the refugees settle in Europe. The refugees internalize the disconnect as they feel that “for years now the world doesn’t want [them]” (Erpenbeck 240). After being forced out of their home countries due to a variety of conflicts, they are still barred from creating a new home in Germany because of the lack of acceptance and effort to understand their unique situations on the part of the German community and government. This leaves the refugees in limbo, unable to move past their grief as they cannot create a new, comfortable environment to acclimate in. Richard reflects on this divide the refugees experience and the influence it must continue to have on their lives during and after many of his interviews with the refugees. He recognizes the difficulty in coping with a past that is too painful to remember while also living in a present that is wrought with uncertainty and different types of pain. He continues to develop his connection between his experiences during and post “Eastern times” with the refugees’ situation in Berlin post migration from Africa. Richard experiences a disconnect between the norms of his past life and the expectations of life in 35 present-day Germany. He remembers his daily routines and the people he interacted with in the past with a similar sense of longing as the refugees express in their interviews with him when discussing their families and the jobs they held in Africa. In response to Rashid’s statement about memory, Richard thinks, “A life in which an empty present is occupied by a memory that one cannot endure, in which the future refuses to show itself, must be extremely taxing…since this is a life without a shoreline” (Erpenbeck 277). With this acknowledgement, Richard understands that the refugees’ present lives are not fulfilled because of the strong trauma that their memory holds across time, adding to the uncertainty about their futures. In other words, the refugees are perpetually floating in a state of pain and the unknown, regarding their grief from the past and the present, as they do not have a resolution to look forward to. Nothing is anchoring them to their current lives in Germany, but at the same time, they are not being entirely pulled back to their lives in Africa. Returning to Africa for most of them is not an option but becoming fully immersed in Germany is also not an option for personal and political reasons. The refugees do not have control over their futures, rather they are at the mercy of the German government and their decisions over what the refugees are allowed to do and who will ultimately be allowed to stay in Germany. Because of this loss of control over their own lives, many of the refugees lack hope after the numerous losses they have experienced. With the grief they have accumulated thus far, instead of seeking comfort in their memories or in what the future holds, they are doubtful of a positive outcome. Richard discovers this lack of hope when he attempts to buy a farm for Karon’s family in Ghana. Richard believes this offer will bring immediate and immense joy to Karon, but instead he seems pensive and simply states, “It will be one year before the first harvest” 36 (Erpenbeck 206). Karon’s reserved response and realistic questioning lead Richard to realize, “Karon’s worries have ground him down to such an extent that he’s even afraid to hope” (Erpenbeck 206). The refugees are not driven by an overwhelming optimism for themselves or their families. Instead, the extent of their trauma causes them to eliminate most hope from their lives. They are not encouraged by potential or promises as they understand how quickly their lives can change. For most of the Africans, they fled their home countries not because of the promise of a better life or the guaranteed prosperity in a new nation, but to survive, as many of them faced an almost imminent death if they remained in Africa. The journey to Europe was also wrought with danger and risk; their migration did not have a guaranteed outcome or a celebratory nature as the reunification of Germany had for many Germans. Karon’s realistic approach to his future also governs his behavior in the present. Earlier in his first in-depth interaction with Richard he shares that he sends at least “150 euros to [his] family” each month, most of the allowance the German government gives him (Erpenbeck 202). For Karon’s family and culture, “this is what is proper: the oldest son must provide for the family” (Erpenbeck 202). Karon upholds the cultural expectations of him even though he is barely able to survive on his own in Germany. Karon demonstrates ways that many adult immigrants are met with an additional challenge of balancing life in their adoptive countries while simultaneously managing their families in their countries of birth (Nesteruk). Already with limited resources, Karon and other refugees maintain an obligation to their families in Africa, once again creating another obstacle to their full integration into life in Germany. 37 Alongside limited resources, continued loss, and lack of hope contributing to the refugees’ cycle of grief, additional post-migratory stressors impact their ability to practically integrate into German society. The refugees come from different countries in Africa and different regions within those countries, so within their refugee community they have a diverse blend of native languages, making clear communication between them more difficult. While they have found sources of common language in bits of Italian and English, most of them do not know German to facilitate communication with the surrounding community. As they begin to take German lessons, many of the men struggle to learn the language as “there are so many disruptions in their lives that there’s no room in their heads for new vocabulary…It’s difficult to learn a language if you don’t know what it’s for” (Erpenbeck 75). Not only is German not their native language, but the refugees do not know if they will even be allowed to stay in Germany. While living in an unfamiliar community, attempting to navigate life following the loss of many aspects of their identities, the “traumatized [refugees] had no means to communicate or effectively channel their overwhelming grief and loss” because of the language barrier between themselves and most of the others around them (McLellan 135). Which results in many not being “able to reconcile chronic bereavement with the necessities of adaptation and integration” (McLellan 135). Without a way to express their grief, the refugees are unable to adequately process their losses and therefore struggle to adapt to their new lives. An “increased proficiency in the host country language” can help reduce the post-migratory stress the refugees experience as it provides them a way to integrate with the culture around them and express themselves adequately to others, but finding time and resources to learn the language poses another challenge for the refugees (Van Heemstra). 38 While still facing some of the traditional challenges of immigration including separation from family and the loss of native homeland and culture, modern day immigrants and refugees are also impacted by technology. On the surface, technology seems to alleviate some of the grief that immigrants may experience after being separated from their families because communication technologies like email or social media allow “transnational families to stay in touch psychologically and be present virtually,” but these connections lack “the intimacy of shared family life” (Nesteruk). If both the refugee and their family have access to internet and technology, communication may be facilitated but it does not completely offset the loss and disconnection the immigrants may feel by not physically being with their family members. During his interactions with the refugees, Richard inquires about the level of contact they maintain with their families in Africa. Rashid shares with Richard that although he has not seen his mother in thirteen years, he does not always answer her calls because he does not feel that he has positive updates to share with her (Erpenbeck 177). The availability of technology does not compensate for the losses the refugees experience. As many of them migrated for a chance at a better life, the calls and communication with family can remind them of the ways this has not been achieved yet. Regarding the refugees’ relationship with technology, Richard remarks, “This system of numbers and passwords extending clear across continents is all the compensation they have for everything they’ve lost forever. What belongs to them is invisible and made of air” (Erpenbeck 277). The technology gives them a method to connect with family and other refugees, but it does not help anchor them to either their homeland or their adoptive country. Grappling with the loss of almost all other elements of their past, technology serves as link to what used to be, but 39 does not take away the suffering associated for those losses or accelerate the healing process. Although the African refugees do not hold tightly to potential futures or find comfort in their hope, they do at times recall fond memories with each other, momentarily finding joy in their memories and channeling their grief to provide them a brief solace from their losses. Attempting to bridge the two parts of his life, Richard hosts a birthday party for himself at the end of the novel and invites his German friends as well as several of the African refugees. Upon hearing of Detlef’s wife’s illness at the party, the refugees silently recall moments of love between them and their wives or other women they love, lightening their hearts momentarily but also connecting them with the German guests at the party. Their reminiscences reconcile some of the distinct cultural and experiential aspects of the German and Africans’ lives, highlighting instead the commonality of the human experience of love. The narrator describes some of their thoughts, “One thinks of how well the woman he loves always fit in his embrace…One man thinks about how her lips felt…One man thinks about her clinging to his hand…All of them think for a moment about women they have loved, who once loved them” (Erpenbeck 279). The thoughts are indistinguishable as belonging to either the refugees or the Germans. For the first time in the novel, the focus is not on what the refugees do not have, or what they have gone through compared to Richard or the Germans, but instead on shared experiences. They have each loved and been loved and yearn for that feeling in the present. In this moment of reminiscence, the refugees’ grief uncovers bittersweet instances of love in each of their past lives. They are reminded of what once was, of the joy they are capable of experiencing in their lives. 40 Although their grief seems to subside, these moments of relief are soon joined by less optimistic ideas about their current and future lives. They recall occasions of love but reflect on the unlikelihood of finding and fulfilling the desire to love and be loved in Germany. One of the refugees simply states, “Nobody loves a refugee” (Erpenbeck 280). When met with refusal by some of the Germans around them, the refugees share stories of being left and struggling to form meaningful connections in their new country. Once again, the grief and complexities of their lives as refugees prevent them from feeling fully integrated or even that it is a possibility to fully integrate into society. Their lives are full of “endless disruption” in all aspects. Along with being physically moved within Berlin, their relationships continue to be disrupted by the uncertainty they face in their future (Gully and Itagki 266). The community they form with Richard, his friends, and each other provides them a space to share their losses and continued struggles, to show that they are not alone in their experiences and grief. These connections and community help instill a sense of belonging where they now live as they continue to navigate their postmigratory lives and find allies among the residents of their new city. 41 CONCLUSION Grief is an emotion experienced by people across the world. Throughout every culture, country, and region, grief is present in some form and heightened and prolonged in certain situations. Go, Went, Gone by Jenny Erpenbeck and In the Distance by Hernan Diaz illustrate how grief is present and persistent in the lives of immigrants, no matter the time period of immigration, their place of origin, or their final destination. Both Håkan of In the Distance and the African refugees of Go, Went, Gone experience tremendous loss and grief due to the separation from close family. The novels demonstrate that grief seems to be an almost fundamental part of the immigrant experience, driving and guiding the actions of the immigrants throughout their time in their adoptive countries. The significance of grief to the immigrant experience is consistent across both novels, but the accompanying emotions differ. In the Distance shows how Håkan’s extended denial of the loss of his brother provides hope to propel his trek across the country and clouds his opinion of America for much of his journey. Alternatively, the refugees of Go, Went, Gone adopt a less hopeful, more skeptical outlook on their potential future in Germany as they navigate the challenges of adapting while managing the losses they have gone through and the continual grief they experience all in the face of an intricate bureaucracy. 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