When grief comes knocking at your door, reprieve sometimes comes from unexpected places.
That is exactly what happened last week after my post concerning the loss of a dear friend. After receiving the consent of my friends, I’d like to share some of their thoughts.
Friend Vickey Bale said she doesn’t think life ends with the death of our body and she refers to death as a person’s continuation day.
Another friend, Jane Czarra, mentioned that when she reflects back, she realizes that some of her parents’ friends have also been her friends for 50 years. Jane went on to say that these friends were and are a big part of her life. Sometimes something will trigger one of Jane’s memories of these folks; a welcome gift because she can then sit with her friends once again. Jane went on to say her friends are still present in her life; she just can’t see them anymore, and how lucky we all are to have this love continue.
Years ago, another friend told me that she loves looking at herself in the mirror because staring back at her are people she hasn’t seen in years; sometimes her mother or, in some lights, a dear aunt.
This week Dan and I were in our camper spending some time at Tybee Island, Georgia. In the off-season, Tybee is a sleepy little beach town full of the type of people we all know.
We were riding our bikes Tuesday when we stopped by some workers. Ever curious Dan stopped to ask them about their job and at the end of the conversation, he hopped back on his bike and glided by the men. I wasn’t that confident in my close-quarters driving skills and cautioned the guys to watch out! One large fellow answered, “Don’t worry darlin,’ I’ll cushion your fall.” It was such a funny, Southern thing to say, and we all laughed.
Another day we were in Savannah, walking behind a well-dressed man smoking a cigar. The cigar smoke reminded me of a much-loved elderly cousin and as we passed, I told the man that I had been enjoying his smoke because of the memories they brought back. He said, “I’m so glad, Sister. Please tell your cousin I said ‘hi,’” I replied, “I’ll tell him when I see him in Heaven.” Yet another wonderful Southern exchange.
Thoughtful comments, familiar Southern banter, peaceful beach time have all begun the hard work of living life still with my friend, but a friend I can’t see anymore.
Writing a column turns out to be a lot like teaching – both activities that give back as much learning, as many thoughts, as you send out to others. Thank you, everyone. Thank you.
Stay tuned next week as I describe my recent epic battle with the stink bugs.
Cindy Arp, teacher/librarian, retired from Knox County Schools. She and husband Dan live in Heiskell.
