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And now, for a word from our sponsors about friends. It wasn’t shocking to me that after Carrick died my family rallied for me. My mom offered financial support, my siblings- emotional support and my dear, sweet sister-in-law has called me daily for the past nearly three months. The rest of the family rose the occasion as well. I shouldn’t say I expected it of them; but I will say I was not surprised. After all, family is family and when push comes to shove, you know they are going to be there. Even when you are (okay, I am) a kind of bossy family member used to pushing everyone around; they forgive you and when it comes right down to it - it’s all cool. What I didn’t expect, or necessarily even deserve, is the way my friends came to bat for me when I lay battered on the ground, unable to rally. “Call Mrs. Kathy.” My youngest son, Liam, begged me the day of Carrick’s accident. “She works for the Red Cross. I am sure she can do something.” What we wanted was for her to somehow use her compassionate super-powers to will Carrick to be okay; for our world to continue spinning. What she was able to do was...... everything else. She made phone calls, she drove our stinking sheltie to the groomers. She put my husband and me, heartsick and wounded to the core of our beings into the backseat of her car and drove us to the funeral home. She allowed relatives (and their dogs) to live in her home while we all reeled from the knowledge that everything was indeed, NOT okay, AND she continues to this day to offer the non-judgmental friendship that understands what might be okay one day may very well be taboo the next. She and her hubby and her kids go with the flow of our new, dysfunctional selves without once expressing anything but the same sorrow that we feel. Our loss is their loss, and though we are pierced deeper, gouged and scarred, so are they, so they wait for us patiently. My gym friends.... what can I say about these people? When I started working out at the gym, years ago, I coveted their perfect figures and their seemingly perfect lives. Though I knew immediately that these people were financially richer than I; little did I imagine how spiritually rich they were as well. Their toned physiques are surpassed by hearts and spirits which are compassionate beyond my imagination. They have, literally and figuratively, carried me these past few months. Kristi, who was the very first person who spoke to me at the gym, is the very person who will look me in the eyes and ask me how I am dealing with the loss of Carrick. She does not flinch when she says his name; she knows that the child who nursed at my breast is as much a part of me as my living children. She offers prayers and pushes me to my physical limits on the bicycle- a welcome respite from the mental anguish. Christy; (not to be confused with KRISTI) my all time bike buddy, who has sat to the left of me in cycle class for several years, tipped my head back the day of the memorial service. I looked in her eyes and I saw God, and furthermore, I felt unworthy of the love she offered. Friendship. Connie, whom I tease mercilessly for her healthy eating habits (which I covet but cannot acquire), sits to the right of me in cycle class and in life, should I need her. Ellen, dear spiritual guidance in the form of an instructor with such zeal for life that everyone smiles in her presence; what a Godsend she has been to me. Dana, feisty and tough, and inspiration (and intimidation); told me frankly a few weeks after Carrick died: “I am so afraid of saying the wrong thing. I am sorry if I don’t say it right.” Her candor was balm for my soul and comfort. I had always respected Jeanine, the “toughest” instructor at the gym. She could dial a telephone with her abs; and “mercy” was not in her vocabulary. Or so I thought. Mercy is what she has offered me continually since the day Carrick died; a transfusion of hope and strength through friendship. So many more..... faces so dear to me that they might as well be my family; for they are. “How can I pray for you?” Tammy seared God’s strength into my soul with what has to be the best question anyone has ever asked me. A a question which I could barely answer, so deep was my pain; but a question which I hoped God would answer on my behalf. Brenda, John, Ann, Elizabeth, Stephanie, Julie, Kim, Renae, Kristin, Jodie, Marsha, Tracey, Lisa, Tracie, Debbie, Karin, Laine, Karen, Cloty, Dianne, Jennifer, Lisa, Suzanne, Belinda, Elisabeth, Nicole Lisa, Michele, Tammy..... does this seem like too many people to imagine? And yet, there are so many more. Their prayers have wrapped my family in gauze; cradled us through the days and indeed provided us with meals, movies, even given me beautiful toenails to distract from searing grief which occupies most of my waking moments. Friends. Church friends, gym friends, college friends, writing friends and old friends; all have taught me a lesson about what it means to give. In spite of my loss; or maybe because of it; I have a deeper love and appreciation of what it means to be a friend, and to those of you who have inspired and taught me about gift of friendship; I thank you from the bottom of my broken heart.
Kristi carries Kimra after a 50-mile bike ride.
The Bikers--Christy B., Connie, Dana, Kimra, Ellen, Kathy and Kristi. |
