This weekend was good. Different. But still good. And as I sit here and type that it was a good weekend, well, it feels strange, because the better part of this weekend was spent with my dear friend Doreen as she and her family mourned the death of her brother Todd.
But, you know, this is what we (as good humans) do. When we have a friend who is grieving, when we have a friend who is hurting, when we have a friend that we can help – we show up. We suspend our plans and schedules. We go to wakes and funerals. We send flowers and help with tributes and set aside everything because it is in these small moments – the moments when we hold hands and shed tears and sing hymns and pray – these are the moments when we know what it is to be alive.
I believe that it is a sacred privilege to be a part of this process and I am so grateful that I could be there with Doreen. It was an incredible honor to help her put her memories in words and then to read those words aloud for her at the gathering after Todd’s funeral. It wasn’t easy and it certainly wasn’t something I planned, but when my friend of 32 years looked at me and said, “I can’t do this. Will you do this for me?,” I swallowed hard and said, “Yes. Of course. It will be my honor.”
So, while some parts of the weekend were spent reading and knitting, watching football and drinking beer, taking photos and prepping for our Halloween party, the most important parts – the parts that will stay with Dale and I – are the parts where we were privileged to mourn with our friends.
It’s the price of love. It’s what we do. And it’s so so worth it.