It's no secret that I am getting older- age hasn't caught up to my physical body in many ways- but the lives of those around me tell the story of age. More stories of death, sickness, the challenges of marriage, the difficulties of parenting, those stories are the ones I listen to the most. Mostly gone are the challenges of how to make baby food, potty train, and teach one to sit at the table.
Yesterday I went to the memorial service for the daughter of a friend I have known since college. Kim and I attended Grand Canyon University back when it was small and quaint- an unrecognizable place now. She played volleyball and I took weekend adventures to new places. There were 4 women who studied biology and a few of us working on liberal arts degrees. As we got closer to graduation we all started making plans- marriages, new jobs, new cities, new lives. Facebook wasn't up yet and we went our different ways. Her daughter Lily and my Bentley were born months apart. I went on to have Clayton and Lily and her twins, Dutch and Mayzie were born in 2013. It was that same year that our sweet friend, Nicole died tragically after the birth of her first son, Eddie. This event drew me back into relationship. David was in residency and we could see the light at the end of the tunnel. I had a new capacity for keeping in touch with friends far away. Mayzie was born with a rare genetic condition and had complex medical needs. Though our children require very different things- there is a unique connection that draws us together. Last year when I was facilitating the AZ Partners in Leadership Program I was thankful Kim was able to participate and we were able to reconnect in new ways.
This winter a dear friend lost her mother- and it was been a lot of dark days. Another sweet friend of 22 years is raising 4 children and passionately in love with her husband who lives with the complications of Multiple Sclerosis. Then there are the stories of those who I am in contact with, but not as close- the ones who have lost children to overdose and parents to illness.
Learning how to walk with friends who grieve is as important and unknown as waking up to motherhood. It is my honor and obligation as a mother to provide the needs of my infants- and it is an honor and obligation to walk with friends in pain. There are books to read that help you know how to do this- but every story is so unique and coupled with our own traumas and perspectives on death every grief is it's own. For some shutting the curtains and being in the dark is the only way to cope. For others, get up and get out and do life brings relief. There is no right or wrong way to feel loss. Watching friends grieve has forced me to reflect on how to love and care- as I watch them navigate the challenges and shallowness of everyday life in the context of their pain. I am learning some important lessons that I would like to share:
1. When a friend loses a loved one it's not the time to ask, "What happened?"
The details of death are personal. If the person who has lost someone wants to let you in on those details they will- overtime. This takes a lot of self control. We are naturally curious about death. We want to know - but I have learned we must control our inquiry.
2. If you are very close with the person who is grieving don't wait for permission to love them and wrap your arms around them- just show up. This can be a fine line- and it could be met with rejection- but the rejection is not about you - and simply about what the person who is grieving needs. And when you show up - you don't need say anything. Just be present- being present will allow you to gauge what you should or shouldn't say.
3. Make food and drop it off. Often times when loss happens meal sign ups shortly follow. For some the brought meals are a life saver- the thought of doing the mundane is unfathomable. Also with the potential for many visitors and the strain of finances- these meals can allow families to grieve together without worrying about another decision.
4. Death is uncomfortable. If a woman loses a husband, parents a child, the loss of a parent- a common response is to avoid talking about your husband/wife, child, parent... I recently listened to a TedTalk that suggested the avoidance of such talk makes the grieving one feel awkward and alone and unseen. Undoubtedly there is pain in watching others have something that you have lost- but when I share and love my children it invites me into the pain of the immensity of loss for the other person. Cherishing what is with us reveals the absence of what is lost. This is a delicate suggestion- and not one to hold in the beginning stages of grief- but over time finding a new way to hold loss and life together is essential for a balanced and true friendship.
5. Don't say "I could never do that". This is one I have been saying for years as we consider what life would be like if our own child had cancer or Down syndrome, etc... Yesterday Mayzie's father, Eric, in recognition of the strength and courage of Kim he said, "I believe mothers have superpowers that many will never use." He's suggesting that what Kim had to take care of Mayzie wasn't unique- though she is incredible- but he's empowering us to know that the strength and courage we need for any situation is in us and will be provoked to come to the front- when it's needed. Trust that truth.
6. Those who grieve don't move on, they move forward. Once there is a loss of someone very close- there is a new weight and heaviness that is carried. I remember when a friend suddenly lost a son that was only months old. In her incredibly vulnerable lament to a small group of women she said, "This is a loss that I will carry with me the rest of my life. He will always be with me in my heart and it will always hurt." Another friend said, "It's like my life has 2 parts now. The time before my mother's death and the time after." As friends we have the honor to tenderly hold the stories of our friends. To tenderly walk with them. Wiping the tears of the grieving is an invitation to
a holy moment.
I am not an expert on grief- I am not even an expert on friendship. I have failed my friends numerously- I have so many regrets. But I do listen well- and I ask a lot of questions. I have been reading the painful stories of others since I was a child in books and watching really difficult movies as long as I can remember. Good Will Hunting became a favorite when I was 15- and it wasn't because Matt Damon is extremely good looking- though it is true, he is. It was because I was drawn to the story of the film. I was drawn to the pain of the characters. This year has exposed me to more loss than years passed and I am listening to my friends- trying to honor their requests. And through that space I wanted to reflect on what I am learning- share it with you- so that when inevitably the time comes for you to walk with someone who grieves- you have a starting place.
This poem was read yesterday- and I'll leave it here. It's beautiful. It's raw. It's love.
i carry your heart with me
i carry your heart with me (i carry it in
my heart) i am never without it (anywhere
i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing, my darling)
i fear
no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) i want
no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you
here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart
i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)
my heart) i am never without it (anywhere
i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing, my darling)
i fear
no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) i want
no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you
here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart
i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)
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