Today, I received the text at work, “Dad lost his fight this morning.”
Throughout my close friend’s father’s short battle with cancer, his repeated admissions to the hospital only brought back memories of my own father’s battle cancers and overcoming three strokes. A sense of gratefulness came over me for my own father is still living; but felt intensely heartbroken that another man lost his battle to this cruel illness. With his passing, I am oddly comforted that he’s no longer in pain yet realize both my friend and her mother will just begin feeling their loss.
These moments offer no script to follow, right or wrong, it can only be hoped the words traveling from your mind and out your mouth offer comfort for those grieving. The awkwardness of expressing the initial words of sympathy and offering condolences is the hardest to release and can never be taken back.
Hesitantly, I replied, “I’m sorry, my thoughts are with you and Mom. If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to reach out.”
Allowing for space and time, I intentionally didn’t reach out again until the memorial service in the fear of being over bearing. Adding to the discomfort, being of a different faith, I was not familiar with the grieving family entering the room after the guests have already taken their seats and just prior to the start of the actual memorial service. The duration of the memorial service felt like eternity but in reality may have lasted an hour at best. During this short service, the rabbi highlighted the deceased’s life, sang songs and recited prayers in both Hebrew and English and concluded with words leaving me pondering. Along with the other mourners the parting thoughts from the rabbi were clearly not just for the moment but lessons for a lifetime.
I’ll attempt to paraphrase his words to the best recollection as my memory of the day remains surreal.
The importance of being family, being there for each other and genuinely loving each other are words we as passengers on Earth need to do much better at. It takes a sorrowful event like this to bring the good out of many people and more often than not we all get caught up in our own life and put off that call to check on a friend, go visit, do things together or simply just be there, because we are friends. Both my grieving friend and myself are only children with minimal extended family. With each passing year, as I get older, I too, wonder who will be there when I need someone. Friends become family for various reasons and are held closer than blood as they are selectively chosen. Sadly, life gets in the way of being there more often than not. It escapes the things we ought to do to keep family and friendships together, distance holds no excuse, catching up with a simple “hello and how’s it going” or just making time to get together seems to not happen enough – more often than not procrastination is the only defendable excuse. As one more weekend passes, then even quicker another year escapes, Father Time has an evil sense of humor, with every blink of an eye, time has escaped and expired, never to be given back, except in nostalgic memories and all the should have regrets.
The rabbi concluded the service by informing us the family will remain afterwards to receive friends. With my own mother, hand in hand, we walked up to my friend and her mother and offered our condolences. I felt my presence was without much exchange of words but allowing my friend to hug freely allowed her emotions to be set free. This in turn spoke volumes, more than any words could say, how our family and friendship are one in the same and will always be. The significance of the words expressed by the rabbi today, was attractively wrapped up by a hug and simply, by just being there.
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