In her time of grief

How helpless we feel when someone passes, and leaves loved ones behind. How useless words seem.

We don't want to bother them in their time of grief, yet we feel compelled to do something - anything - to ease the grief we feel on their behalf. To feel like we have done something, at least, but what - what matters most at this time? A time when people may just want to be left alone...

The day I am writing this blog post I am looking at the future loss of 2 very good friends who will not be with us much longer... a year, 6 months, or less - who knows. So I am thinking of them, my own impending grief at their loss, the grief their family members are already feeling before anyone actually passes on. 

My own grief from before jogs to the surface, and fears of losing those I treasure is too much... I'm hurting and the person who passed recently - the one that triggered this post and the feelings I'm having today - is not even all that close to me. 

Margaret called saying: "I'm calling to let you know that our neighbour, Brad, passed last night in the hospital"

Brad was a neighbour, a new neighbour. We had just moved into the adult only mobile home park maybe 2 months ago, and Brad lived next door. He was one of the first people to welcome me to this retirement community. every time he saw me working in the yard he offered to lend his tools, share his knowledge or just chat. So helpful, so honest, so kind. 

I remember the tale of meeting his wife a second time - and fate lent a hand here... you see, they grew up together as children and Brad always had a "thing" for Teresa. 

"There was just something about her", he said fondly, 

"I couldn't stop thinking about her, even though so much time had passed...

 wondering where she was, how she was." 

Time happened and Brad found himself in the middle of a divorce. It just so happened that Teresa was also living in the exact same area and was also in the middle of a divorce. 

"When my brother told me Teresa was available I jumped up knocking things over and said "Where!?"  ..."He told me to calm down before I attempted to start things up with her or I'd scare her off. But I couldn't help it! I was so excited and could hardly wait to meet up with her again". 

They've been a couple ever since... until the other day. 

Today, there's been chatting with a couple neighbours who are also concerned for Teresa. We talked about what we might do, could do, should do.... The first thing I did was to shed a few tears, then carefully let a few neighbours know, and the second thing I did was text the community's owner, Rick so that he could arrange to support Teresa too. Letting others know seems like a small thing but perhaps with all of us showing support it will help her through the grief. 

Minutes later, I searched through my stack of cards and found one that seemed like it was made for them. It said:

 "Whether it is a good day, or a tough one - Remember that you are not alone, I am here for you."

I wrote in my email and my phone number (which they may have already had) and suggested that she reach out anytime. Heading over there my brain was telling me I'm invading their space, that I'm infringing, that it is inappropriate for me to be here...

At their gate I hesitated. Should I leave the card here? Stick it in the gate, or on the table in their deck? Should I ring the door? What if she is sleeping or getting that moment of peace before the family arrives..... Thoughts circled telling me I'm an idiot... 

Finally I rang the door bell, felt my pulse quicken in anxiety. Teresa came out and was genuinely grateful for the card and while I didn't stay more than a moment I shared my memories of Brad during our brief encounters, relayed how much he loved her and talked so sweetly about her. She really did appreciate it and I left struggling not to show my own emotions. 

She doesn't need my crap on top of hers. 

Arriving home I had a good cry. ...crying for those I've grieved for, those who are dying, and my own fears of losing my husband Dave. And while I am no stranger to the terrible elephant weight of grief, the weight that makes breathing difficult and speaking nearly impossible, I couldn't even begin to truly imagine the pain of losing a cherished spouse. 

I'm grateful she has family here, friends... coworkers... and family coming up from the coast to be with her. 

...So I share this experience with you today, not sure why, I just felt compelled to do so. Writing is and has always been my own therapy.