All I Need to Do

Earlier this week I sat with a child while he cried about his father who died six years ago. A few days later, I embraced a friend as she wept about her husband who died three days ago. 

Such different people. Such different stories. But for me, the listener, the observer, the intensity of the grief I saw before me with each of these people was just the same.

My mind wants to extract a lesson from this experience, to share it with you as a “teachable moment”. There is something you should learn from what I have just told you. But trying to figure out how to effectively convey that to you is giving me a headache. Which is why I realize that what I really need to do is just share what is in my heart.

You might want to know the stories of the child and the woman I mentioned. But I can’t tell you because I don’t know. The details are unimportant. All I know is that in each case someone died and in each case that someone was loved and is missed deeply. It hurts that these people are now gone. Six years ago, a few days ago – it makes no difference when they departed. Or how or where or as the result of what cause. The reality is they are gone and their absence hurts.

I can’t know exactly what that hurt is. Or how strong. Or what it looks like – anger? Sadness? Relief? If either the boy or the woman wanted to tell me, they would have. But they didn’t. And I didn’t ask.

I just was just there as they poured out their grief. Just a few minutes worth in each case, but that’s all that needed to come out. At that moment. Maybe there will be more. Maybe there won’t. I just know that in those particular moments, I was there. And that’s all I needed to do.