Learning Greek

I've been devoting a lot of serious effort to learning Greek recently, in preparation for my upcoming journey to lay a part of you to rest there. On the one hand, I am a polyglot and a linguaphile and I would embrace the opportunity to learn any language where the opportunity and practical rationale presented themselves. But on the other hand, I can't help but fixate on the reality that Greek was nowhere on my radar before you vanished from my life.

I had recently purchased materials to begin learning Japanese, I had seriously considered enrolling in a Mandarin class, I had been playing with Arabic in microscopic increments, and of course, the Romance languages are still in my queue (Spanish down, French the most likely next contender). But neither Greece nor Greek had captured my attention in any serious manner.

And then suddenly the earth tilted. Suddenly a star burned out. Suddenly plans made were mocked and my Japanese program fell into a bin with all of my other imaginings and began to gather dust, and I found myself seeking the best format for mastering (or at least making peace with) Ελληνικα.

I think my pronunciation is okay. My recall seems to be good (except I can't for the life of me seem to remember how to say 'hello' no matter how many times that mild-mannered Pimsleur coach repeats it). I'm not having any trouble so far with the prescribed methods for absorbing this language. But this experience is different than all other language learning adventures I have embarked on in the past.

I lack the enthusiasm I've had in past linguistic endeavors. Whereas my mastery of a new skill in ASL or Spanish or Arabic was always tinged with excitement and pride, in Greek, it is simply a fact. I feel numb to this experience; it is a practical undertaking. I don't wish to be in Greece with no ability to communicate basic needs, and so I am committed to learning as much as I can before I go. But I don't feel the joy that I should as a linguaphile. I don't feel the wonder of exploration I should, the curiosity surrounding points of grammar and shades of meaning. I am just putting on the language like a raincoat with no adornment, as though it were a simple garment with an exclusively utilitarian existence.

And I know why. Because if the world were as I wished it, I would not be learning Greek at all. Perhaps, some years down the road, if you had married your sweet I--, I might have found a reason to learn Greek. Perhaps you would have moved to Greece, or her mother would have moved with her to America, and I would need Greek to communicate with my extended family. Perhaps I simply would have been exposed to it and chosen to learn it simply because it caught my fancy. But surely I would be doing so with you, and not in your stead. And since I am not doing so for the sake of sharing life experiences with you, but as a way to honor you in death, I am finding the joy difficult to create.

I asked my friend M-- to learn with me. I am giving her copies of my materials and hoping that having a partner for whom there is no such sadness will help me discover the joy I know I should be feeling. She shares my enthusiasm for languages and for learning; perhaps she can show me the light. I hope so, because learning is never optimal in darkness, and I have this work to do.