About an hour ago, my best friend texted me. I completely missed her text from Saturday. I had A LOT going on, on Saturday, between some serious family stuff, setting up a virtual meeting for the women at church and talking with a long distant aunt. I saw a text from her come in that afternoon, after we had texted earlier that morning. I didn't get a chance to read it and had completely forgotten all about it.
The text an hour ago delivered the outcome of Saturday's missed text; the devastating news of her Dad's passing.
I wanted to be as gentle and kind to her, as she was for me when my own Dad passed about 3 years ago. There's no way I could ever be as tender as her; she is the epitome of empathy. I think I'm the friend you come to when you want a good laugh, a pleasant distraction. Of course I wasn't cracking any jokes, but I just wanted to distract her away from the bottomless pit of grief she was feeling in that very moment. How do you console the most empathetic person you know? Do as they do? Say what you would want to have said to you, if roles were reversed?
I. Don't. Exactly. Know.
This made me think of how I need to more compassionate. We could all improve on that, right? I just hope that maybe, just maybe, she felt some compassion or understanding from me. If anything, I'd like her to know that I understand some of the emotions she may be experiencing right now and in the days and weeks ahead. Maybe my compassion just comes in the form of suggesting lotion-infused tissue and eye masks to help with the puffy eyes that comes with grieving...or the recommendation of sleep and food as they can help someone feel a little more human when you feel like a robot going through the motions because your mind, body and heart seem disconnected and stunned beyond belief.
My friend, my dear sweet friend of my heart...please know how much I love you and would gladly and resolutely shoulder this pain with you if it meant that your heart could feel a little less heavy as you navigate through this new normal. I love you.