Lots of tears this week!

For me, this past week has been one of great shock, grief and joy. My childhood friend of 55 years-plus lost her husband to suicide a week ago last Friday while they were in the throes of a divorce. Our second granddaughter was born on Tuesday, March 15. My emotions have been all over the map. The phone brought news of both events. My friend called on Sunday morning to tell me what had happened and Ivan called in the wee hours of Tuesday morning, proudly giving us the news that our granddaughter had been born and all was well. I was unable to get back to sleep after Ivan's call as these events tossed and turned me in my bed until dawn, when I got up and went to work.

Life can be brutally painful and miraculously joyful, sometimes all within a few hours. Our grandson Ben, died four and a half years ago. When I saw the first pictures of our new grandbaby, Catie, tears filled my eyes. My first thought was how much she looked like Ben. At the wake I felt it important to be in control of my emotions as we talked with my beloved friend and her family. On Saturday at the funeral, as the family walked in together, I found my tears flowing uncontrollably.

I had some trepidation about the funeral. Suicide is different from death by accident or illness. I had no idea how the minister, who has known the family for decades, would conduct a service of this kind. It turned out he knew exactly what to do, honestly confronting all the pain and complicated circumstances which had now been left for family and friends to sort through and deal with.

The minister began the service by beckoning three children, all under six, to join him at the front of the room to hear a story. One of the children was the grandchild in the family. The story he told was about animals dying, to which all the children could relate, having had pets who had died. He asked the children about their thoughts on death. They immediately responded simply and truthfully with the innocence only a child can have. The children sat back down and the minister shared some favorite memories which family and friends had told him about Carter. He had his own tales, too. Many of the stories were very funny and we all laughed at Carter's quirky sense of humor.

Then the minister directed his attention to all of us grieving adults. He said that death beckons us to a higher level of thought, not to simple stories appropriate for children. We are challenged to see and accept the complexity, the horrors, and the unknowns of our human condition. He told us to remember that when we confront the darkness of the human soul, light and goodness are not obliterated. The light and the dark, the evil and the good, are often mixed together in this world of ours.

Today, Harry and I went to brunch with our friends, Brian and Vicki. It was a great comfort to be with them after such a week. The four of us are so at ease with each other after years and years of patiently and tenderly listening to each other's stories. Amidst a good breakfast and cup after cup of coffee we took turns telling of our most recent trials, fears, and joys. There were some tears today as painful stories were told from all sides of the table and there were tears from laughter too. Brian and I had both taken bad falls this past week that left us bruised but ambulatory. Harry pointed out we were amateurs when it came to falling. This remark sent us into hysterics. Our waitress came over and said that we seemed to be a group who knew not to take life too seriously.

Tears come flowing with the best, the worst and the most ridiculous parts of life. They can easily get all mixed up together. This was that kind of week.

Goodbye, Carter.

Hello, Catie.

*The picture is from a card my dear friend of 55+ years gave me for my birthday this year. Harry framed it for me. For some reason I saved the card of these two little girls playing dress-up as my friend and I used to do. I am grateful to have saved it: I find it comforting each time I look at it.