It should have been her wedding anniversary. I sat on the stoop with my recently widowed
friend while she cried and I awkwardly circled my hand on her back. They
should have been going out for dinner or a movie, or even bickering in the
kitchen about brands of cat food or some other inane topic. Instead she was
drinking beer on the porch at 10am while his ashes sat in an engraved wooden
box inside.
Her sobs grew louder and without thinking I muttered these
words: "It's OK".
“It's not OK.” She snapped back. “My husband is dead.”
She was right of course. It's not OK.
She shouldn't have to, but my friend taught me how to love a
widow that summer. She showed up crying on our porch at midnight.
She asked my husband to help with small household fixes. She came over
dutifully at each holiday and birthday for a plate of food and some quick pecks
on the cheek. I like to be invited she said. But I'm not up to
staying long.
It's not that I didn't want to love her well. I did. But I've never walked in her shoes. Frankly, I'd rather not imagine having to do so. So I needed her to show me. To ask for what she needed and tell me when to shut up. She shouldn't have to teach people how to come along side her in her most desperate moments, but she does. Because we just don't know.
My friend is brave and bold. She consistently told us
what she needed. She swore and cried and didn't for a moment pretend
that grief hadn’t shaken her to the core. If we forgot for a moment that her pain is the
forever type, she would remind us. She
taught me another invaluable lesson that summer; she taught me that we all need to teach those
around us how to love us. We shouldn't
have to, but we do.
This past year the mental illness and addictions I had been
trying to ignore for years set my life on fire.
My husband and kids suffered along side me through rehab and psych wards
and countless appointments. Friends wanted to help and often didn’t know
how. Some people intuitively knew what
to do, showed up to be present in our family’s pain, brought casseroles and
smiles and caramel Lattes. Others avoided us for fear of saying the wrong
thing. They didn’t know how to love us through
the pain. How could they? I hadn’t told them.
How often do we live amongst each other with out being
amidst one another? We are surrounded
without being embraced. We are together
yet alone. What if instead we learned to
be brave and bold like my friend, to tell each other precisely what we need? What if we taught our friends how to love us?
Because our friends want to love us well. We want to love each other well. But don’t we all feel a little in over our
heads? A little shaky and unsure? Afraid of reaching out too far and falling
flat on our faces?
It takes a special type of vulnerability to express to each other
how to love us best, to reach out when we feel lonely or forgotten, to
communicate our hurt when we feel dismissed, to ask people to listen when we
feel voiceless. But I’ve come to believe
that it results in a special type of blessing: A community of people who are
willing to meet us in our need, a circle of loved ones who know how to love us
well.
We are designed to need one another, to speak into each
other’s lives in both practical and ethereal ways. And because we are mostly
made of water and fear, we aren’t always going to succeed. We get lost in daily life, over committed and
unsure. So friends, you are going to
have to teach me how to love you. And
I’ll return the favour. We shouldn’t
have to, but we do.
There is a lovely book by Jill Butyn called "Just Show Up", it was written by she and her friend, Kara, when Kara was dying of cancer. Beautiful book...helped me as I,too, walked beside my friend as she died. How do we know how to love someone through those times until we are faced with it? You sometimes just need to show up. And if you say the "wrong" thing; it is still better than those who avoid or stay away. Just sitting and being with them, crying with them...it is enough sometimes.
ReplyDeleteGreat article, Kelly...and way to go for being there for your friend at midnight when she needed you. It is enough. God bless you.
Good morning, Kelly. What powerful words you have posted. I wish I had read them 3 years ago when my dear friend passed away from cancer. Prayers for you in your struggles. But in the midst of all that you are facing yourself, you continue to reach out to those most vulnerable and helpless. Keep strong and faithful.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Kelly, this is so powerful xx
ReplyDelete