I went to a funeral yesterday. One of my dearest, closest friends lost her dad unexpectedly. The loss of a 57-year-old father and grandfather was sad in itself. Watching my friend try and physically hold her self together, one pale hand over her heart, did me in.
Tragedy and trauma is part of life. Often, for fear of saying or doing the wrong thing, we say and do nothing, leaving the grieving even more alone and desolate. I’ll admit to doing this more times than I’d like.
There’s no way I can run away this time. I made a promise to my friend while looking at the back of her bowed head during the service yesterday. There isn’t much I can do besides pick up the pieces of her broken heart and try valiantly to glue them back together.
I wil be there for her, and I will do my best to comfort and soothe. Time will go by, bringing peace. My friend will learn how to go on, one foot in front of the other, and I will walk beside her, holding her hand, every step of the way.