Grieving

This past week or so has been a very, very low point in the life of Rox.  My ongoing health issues remain a factor; meanwhile, a situation in my extended family has wrecked me -- which, frankly, makes my health issues markedly worse.  Imagine having a disease in which you can't cry.  It's a good thing that, usually, I'm quite strong... just not this week.

Some of my friends recently circled their wagons around me, reminding me that my health and my feelings matter a great deal to a lot of people.  I am a hard person to bring down; regardless, these friends found a way to lift me back up as if I'd never been knocked off of my feet.  And when I fell down the next day, again, there they were again.  And again, and again.  Fall down seven times, get up eight, says the Japanese proverb -- and I wouldn't have gotten up once if it weren't for a host of very special people whom I didn't know two years ago.  I pinch myself every day that I wake up here in California.  

One friend in particular has offered me support beyond measure.  She brought me gluten-free cupcakes when I was down.  She always knows just the right time to ask me to breakfast, or suggest a playdate, or arrange a dinner out for our families.  She does these things even though she's been struggling with a lot on her plate lately.  She gives and gives and gives, tirelessly, to everyone she knows.  It is a blessing to have her as my friend and neighbor.

Today, this friend who's seen me through so very much lost her mom.  Her mom, a cancer survivor and a friend to all who knew her, went into her beautiful kitchen to make coffee this morning; the theory is that she suffered a massive heart attack that ended her life quickly right there in her kitchen -- a kitchen into which she once invited my daughter to stay and make cupcakes with her granddaughter, cupcakes which led to a homemade spaghetti-and-meatball dinner and dessert from a Jacques Pepin recipe.  That afternoon and evening meant the world to my kid, as it was like she had some local grandparents for an evening.  In that same kitchen, I watched the vice-presidential debate before the last election... celebrated my friend's 40th birthday... celebrated the holidays with some fellow bloggers... and I've only been here a couple of years.   Hearing more and more stories about the lives she's touched for far longer, I am truly amazed.  We should all be so lucky as to have such a positive impact on others' lives and to be remembered so fondly.  What I will remember most about this amazing grandmother is the support she offered to me as I struggled with my still-undiagnosed illness in the fall.  I was around her at several different points, and each time, she asked how I was doing -- and she listened, offered encouragement, and truly cared.  She knew what it was like to need hope in a dire situation, and I looked at her: a picture of health, a conqueror of a battle, a strong and happy woman.  She inspired me.  She made me believe I could be well. 

How can she be gone?  And how can I help my friend, whose mother has lived near her and been a significant presence in her life on a daily basis?  

The grief of this past week has overwhelmed me.  If I cry, I stand to make myself sicker.  But how can I not cry for my friend, my poor, dear friend, and her wonderful family ... I cannot imagine their loss.  It is unbearable, and unthinkable, and all wrong. 

Fearing that I cannot do much else, for my friend, I pray: God, in your mercy, bring comfort to my friend and to all of her mother's loved ones and friends in this time of grief.  May her love and strength live on in all of our hearts.  May the positive way in which she lived her life inspire the greatness that lies within all of us.  May her soul rest in peace, and may we all find peace, in this life and ever after. Amen.