Life markers are to be celebrated ~
- We shower expectant mothers and brides-to-be to help transition them into new life with new lives…
- We gift and cake and party hat birthday boys and girls…
- We gather to remember the lives of those we cherish when they step through earth's door into eternity.
This week in the span of a few hours, I celebrated the lives of two people; one who impacted my past, the other who continues to be a part of my life and will be in the future.
A funeral and a surprise party: my best-friend-from-sixth-grade-and-beyond lost her father to Parkinson's and my niece turned 18.
I debated going to Mr. Fincher's funeral. I haven't seen him in decades or Mandy in years, and to work out logistics was tricky. Adding to the funeral and surprise party, my sister had surgery last week–my initial reason for squeezing travel into the midst of a very busy season at home in the first place!
But Mandy is the type friend with whom I end conversations with commas and pick up mid-sentence when we have flesh and blood connection. My affections for her run far and wide and span a life.
In the past, I excused away going to funerals. Because I moved away from my hometown after college, and then again from the place we lived 14 years (our hometown as marrieds), I'm physically distanced from those with whom I grew up. I suppose emotionally distanced, too.
Some of you know I lost my own mother when I was nine; long-time readers know my father passed away more recently. His funeral was truly a celebration of his life, and I got to see family friends I hadn't seen since I was a child…there was much laughter through tears (one of my top two favorite emotions) as we remembered together. It was good.
It meant so much for me for people to carve out the time to attend his visitation and/or service that I was changed from that point forward: now, unless it's impossible, I go.
So I went. In a room full of my friend's father's colleagues, family and friend-strangers, I sat with two high school friends I haven't seen in years. We're all weathered and seasoned and carry baggage impossible to imagine back in our bulletproof days.
We learned some things we hadn't known about Mr. Fincher from those who knew him best. When you're a kid, there's always something mysterious–and sometimes intimidating–about your friends' fathers.
After the service, a friend and I hung out upstairs at Mr. Fincher's home; Mandy knew we were there and when she could, she escaped a few minutes to Just Be. And to be loved.
Anyways….
My point is simply to let you know it's significant to those who are grieving for you to be present with them. You don't have to say a lot, a hug speaks volumes. Presence matters in an era when emails replace hand-written cards and texts replace phone calls.
My experience with my father's death changed the way I thought; I hope my words here encourage you to always choose "to go" when you're in the same position. In so doing, you'll celebrate life in a beautiful way.
What a great reminder Robin. You are so right. Sometimes we don’t think we can do anything or say anything to help a grieving friend. One of our friends lost his mother about 15 months ago. Through the last stages of her cancer none of us knew what to do, but we were just there for them as he savored those last days with his mom. He and his wife told us later that the one thing they were so thankful for was that we were all present for them. We couldn’t change anything, but our prescence let them know we loved them.
It’s so good you went!
So many people want to avoid uncomfortable situations but by doing that we abandon hurting people right when they need us!!
Robin, I’m so glad you sent out this message. Like you, I moved away from my hometown and haven’t gone back to attend many funerals. But also like you, since the death of my father, it has become so important for me to reach out for others. Thanks for expressing this so well, and to let others know how much their presence means. (And if they can’t attend, a note or call to let them know they are being thought of.)
Last year my best friend from high school and college days, father passed away. I’d been extremely close with their family – open door policy. Going to his funeral was so important to me. I hadn’t seen my friend in 8 years and now days visits are over Facebook and email rather than face to face and over the phone…a sad reality of life.
Thank-you, dear one, for this post! You are so right in all you say…grief is a complex thing, and just having people surround you with their time and presence is priceless! We tend not to realize that until we are on the receiving end of their time and attention in our own grief. Thank-you for being Jesus with skin on to her and for making whatever sacrifices were necessary to be there for her. She will NEVER forget it and will cherish that memory and cling to it for the rest of her days! Abundant blessings to you!
Lolli (aka Lisa)
I know exactly where you’re coming from, re exusing yourself from funerals… a v good friend of mine died about 18 months ago and I just could not bear meeting 375 family members and friends of someone I wanted to remember as I knew her, not as they did… people who were barely ever there for her when she was alive…
This is so well said. I couldn’t agree more. As I always say to people, I don’t want anyone to say anything at my funeral that I didn’t already hear them say about me in life. And I try to approach my relationships with others the same way. Great post.
You know I’ve never thought of the support my presence could bring during a time of grief, even for someone I don’t see anymore. Thank you for this piece of wisdom.
Amen to that. I think there’s a reason that Christ tells us “where two or more are gathered” there the Spirit is. Community is everything. To just be together. To give of yourself is the most powerful gesture of support, communion, love.
It’s a very African notion – to just sit alongside someone while they grieve. Sometimes it’s the only thing we have to give.
Thank you for this lovely Robin.
~Lisa-Jo
Just stopped by because I knew there would be words of inspiration here…Thank You.
when i was 23, my father died because of high blood. I really don’t know what to react the day they told me about my father. Now I miss him so much.
My head is spinning from my job (did you even know I went back to work????); HUGE event taking place this weekend. It's why I'm barely blogging.
And I miss it.
But mostly, I miss my Swampy xo.
Could not agree more. I was 11 when my Grandmama FriedOkra died, and seeing my best friend, even at that age, there at the visitation and funeral, was such a sign of her love for me that has stayed with me my whole life. She’s still my best friend. And like you, I was shaped by that moment and make being there for others who lose loved ones a high priority. I’m very far away though and honestly NOT being able to be there at these times is one of the hardest things about my Midwestern exile. Sending a card that includes a heartfelt personal note means a lot, too, when you’re unable to physically be there.
Presence matters — absolutely. Well said.