Lessons in Gratitude Day 234

I’m sitting outside the door of a barber shop in Richmond California watching through the doorway as my son gets his haircut. This is an interesting phenomenon and it takes me back so many years to the days when he was a young boy and I took him to the barber shop in Lansing, Michigan. Those days as a single parent were not easy, particularly trying to raise and reason with a fairly headstrong boy, but I can rest in the fact that though I was far from perfect, I did the best I can and both of my kids turned out pretty well all things considered. So as I sat watching Jared sitting in the barber’s chair, I couldn’t help but wax nostalgic, it’s been that kind of day. Actually, it’s been that kind of week: the emotional mechanical bull whipped me this way and that, up and down, back and forth. This time I think I sailed off of it, landing with a thud against a wall and not in that nice, fluffy sawdust I’ve periodically landed in.

Yesterday morning I received a phone call from my best friend Pat, she had called to tell me her mother had died unexpectedly the night before. Her voice sounded tired but matter of fact, and at one point I felt like I was grieving and crying harder than she was. But that’s the way Pat is, focusing more on the practical, to-do-list kinds of things than on the emotional issues. She will no doubt grieve later after all the details had been attended to. That’s the way it had always been. As an only child, Pat was the lone person responsible for taking care of her mother’s affairs. Of course it was a two way street; “Nana” often took care of Pat’s son Chris when he was a boy, and every Sunday evening literally up until the week she died fixed dinner for herself and for Chris, Pat and Pat’s husband. I used to envy Pat for still having her mother as part of her everyday life; my own Mom died nearly 17 years ago. Now with Nana’s death I know the void that she will face as she now goes about her day without the trips taking Nana to the doctors, grocery shopping for her and picking up her meds, several trips per week over to her house, and of course to go pick up Sunday dinner. And when you’re used to talking to your Mama every day, what are you supposed to do when she’s no longer there to answer the phone when you call?

“I wish I could be there to help you do all this,” I told her, trying to keep my voice as even as possible. “I’ve lost your address. Can you give it to me?”

“You don’t need to send me anything,” she told me, “I just need you to be by the phone when I need to talk.”

“I can do that,” I assured her. And I will be there for her whenever she needs to call.

I am grateful tonight for being a friend and for having friends. Throughout the dramas and traumas of last year, Pat is one of those people who checked in to see how I was doing, to let me know she was thinking about and praying for me.  In these days and weeks to come as she comes to grips with the loss of her mother, I’ll be standing by offering support and calling to check in as needed.

I’ve cried a lot this week–it seems to be a time for more releasing and letting go. It hasn’t been fun, but it’s been important. I am looking forward to a more placid time in the coming week (one can hope!) and to better days ahead. May we all be free from suffering and the causes of suffering, and may we know happiness and the root of happiness. So be it!