Grief: Depth and Length

Staring at my friend in her coffin the other day brought back a flood of recollections. She always got her nails done and her hair cut and colored. She didn't get a lot of sleep, with a dozen kids, but she did get out there and made sure her nails and hair were good. So many times when we lived down the street from each other I would come in and she'd say she'd slept in her clothes, had stayed up late watching a movie and folding piles of clothes. Sometimes we would run down to the laundramat when she got overwhelmed with the wash and we would fill 10 washers and sit and talk about everything. I admired her as a mom and as someone who knew who she was, what she wanted, and she did it. She made her own curtains, and slip covers for couches, while I was making matching dresses for my stair step girls. We fed our kids together often, went shopping together, talked on the phone a lot. My youngest was 4 when we met and he is over 50 now...that's a lot of memories. They moved and we moved, but we stayed in touch.

The memories flooded in as I met with her adult children. She raised good people, and they in turn, have raised good people. The grief is that I don't get to laugh on the phone with her anymore. Her kids won't be able to take her gambling at her favorite slot place. I miss her. Loss isn't easy. Sadness sets in and other thoughts like remembering all the losses over the years, and our own impending exit from this earth.

Turning to today, I realize that grief that keeps popping up is a piece of aging that we can't avoid. It is one of the inevitable experiences that make us a little more appreciative of life itself, a little more appreciative of our friendships. Today is a good day to remind myself to stay close to friends.