My heart is heavy over the sudden death of a friend. Her name is Cory, and just last weekend Dave and I met her and her husband and their two children, a year-old boy and 4-year-old girl at the park to talk, walk and let the children play.
It was a rainy and windy day. Cory was mostly focused on her son, the newly toddling little guy that he is in a thick, blue rain suit. At one point she and I peeled off from the group, strolling along the sidewalk. She discussed a need to move by the month’s end because their landlord needed a place to live. She was understanding, yet felt conflicted about buying something with the nature of the current housing market.
She shared her desire for a house that her family could grow into. It’d have a yard, she told me, with four, maybe five bedrooms.
I vividly remember her with her son. She was just googly-eyed over him. He kept running over to the lake and played chicken with going in it. She’d run over to him, scoop him up and then run up the beach and set him down a huge smile on her face the whole way. When inevitably he’d toddle back to the water, she’d run after him again without a care in the world.
I sat cross-legged in the yard earlier, reflecting on our time together that day and my only thought was, “but she was so alive.” So freaking alive.
Dave’s now at the store buying food. I’m going to make rice, beans, and enchiladas and we’re going to bring it over to their family later this evening. Another family’s brought lasagna for tonight, so our meal will be on the docket for tomorrow.
I called my Dad. “When Mom died, what did you appreciate most that other people did for you?” He couldn’t talk long because he was in between holes on the golf course, “Well, the high school basketball team organized a meal train. It was nice to not have to think about that. One or two meals a week, if I’m remembering correctly and they did that for us for two months.”
I remember those meals. I remember feeling special that people cared about our family like that. And I also remember how exciting it was to see (and taste, of course) what people had made.
Dave, Evelyn, and I went to their house. We took the food and spent time with family members and friends talking. We stayed until everyone went to bed, and it was nice, in spite of the circumstances.
I’m sure I have more to say, but I need some time for myself before bed. I know you understand.
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