Brainiac

Look what Eva can do!

My kid is smarter than yours.  Sorry.

Ponder

There are a lot of fun things that I want to post about but it seems like I should hold off on those for now after how I spent last week.  I’ve spent many quiet moments recently pondering life and all that I have to be grateful for. 

I have a dear friend whom I met my Freshman year of college.  Though time has separated us and we haven’t seen each other in several years, we have a great history together, and I count her as an influential person in my life.  Ten days ago, her husband passed away unexpectedly after a heart attack.  My dear friend is widowed at 35.

She lives in Seattle so I quickly gathered my things and drove to her house.  I wasn’t sure what to expect, what to say to her, how to offer even a morsel of comfort.  I ached for her but didn’t know what to do for her.  I worried all the way to her house that I would say the wrong thing or be in the way.  I worried that the long span of absence between us would be awkward.  I felt guilt that my husband is alive and hers is not.  I was concerned about what I was to find.  I was thinking about myself.

I arrived to her home and immediately clutched her in a tight embrace while she sobbed.  I stood there and instantly realized how incredibly ridiculous I had been worrying about what I was going to experience and how this trip would affect me.  It wasn’t about me at all.  It wasn’t about whether or not I would say the right thing or even offer her any comfort.  It was about being with my friend in a time of tragedy.  The number of years that have passed since we last saw each other were inconsequential.  Friendship is friendship, no matter the time and distance apart.  I love her and I knew she knew it in that moment.

Here’s one of the hardest parts about loss: no one can say anything of comfort to the person who is grieving.  Nothing I could say would dull the sting of her husband being gone.  Nothing would fill the emptiness of the house or her heart.  I couldn't fix it.  I didn’t try to fix it.  Instead, I listened.  I mowed the lawn.  I encouraged her to take a shower and eat dinner.  I watered the plants and vacuumed the house.  I didn’t talk her out of feeling devastated.  I was just there.

I don’t say this to laud my contributions and to say that I healed her the week I was there.  I didn’t.  I’m not eloquent and I rarely say the right thing.  I only mention this as my reflection of how incredibly difficult death is for the people left behind.  It is a wretched reality of mortality.  It is painful and unfair.  But it is also unifying.  My relationship with my friend changed last week.  We have been bonded by her loss.  Her family, friends, and co-workers have reached out to her in a way that could only happen during tragedy.  She has seen the miracles of being loved and served by others.  Would she return it all to have her husband back?   Absolutely.  Unfortunately, that is not an option.  But what is an option, is the opportunity to be changed and strengthened by death.   

This experience has made me acutely aware of my blessings.  It has reminded me to cherish the moments with those I love and to make sure they know I love them.  It has made me exercise faith that God is in control and will not abandon us.  Every one of us will pass through death, and every one of us will experience the bite of loss.  It’s not fair.  It’s not pleasant.  I don’t want to do it.  But it’s life.

I have long had anxiety about losing my parents, about being a widow, about my loved ones dying in general.  I don’t have that anxiety any more.  I watched my friend during the raw moments of grief and watched her mourn for someone that she has shared her life with for the past 15 years.  I saw strength in her.  I saw bravery.  I saw that even though she felt like she could never heal, she will in fact heal.  She will never get over the loss of her husband, but she will learn how to live in a different way without him.  She has to. 

We have the awesome ability as humans to adapt and change.  We can absorb our experiences and let them shape us into someone new.  We can choose to find joy in our sorrows.  There is peace and hope in life.  There is happiness amid our afflictions.  There are wonderful blessings waiting for us at the end of our journey.

I am grateful for the week I spent with my friend and the way that her strength has changed me.  I am grateful to experience both the sweet and the bitter in life.  I am once again reminded from the scriptures:

Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.