BITTERSWEET

I stood in the funeral parlor, and gazed down at an old friend. We knew each other from our years spent together at an old company, and now it was time to say goodbye. My mind drifted to those years past, a calmness overcoming my mind in a serene setting. It seemed like he was telling me, “I’m done passing through this world, with all its pain and anguish. I’ll see you someday on the other side.”

Suddenly from behind, this arm gently wrapped around my shoulders, it too saying: “I’m sorry Joe, but he left ME so too soon! It will be alright.”

It was of course his widow, the woman he was leaving behind, the one person who loved and cared for him. I looked into her eyes, and I could see the hurt and pain, I could feel the sorrow and disappointment.

“He left me on our anniversary!”

I tried to get the words up to say how horrific it was, how it could not be possible, how sorry I truly was. I said nothing, but I think she understood. I mentioned how we first met, the day seemed etched in my mind, it was over 29 years ago, but I saved the memory, I guess, for this moment.

As we hugged, my mouth started a flow of words, and gently I expanded the story, jogging her memory of sweet days gone by, of little details that seemed to dress my memories, give them validity and finality and a gentle laughter started to pour from her lips, her eyes lighting up, and soon we were deep sweet conversation.

Suddenly this sweet white haired little old lady came up to us, her Mom, and suggested that maybe I should move on because there was a long line suddenly building behind us to pay their respects!

It’s never easy to go to a funeral parlor or visit the bereaved, I mean, what can you say? How do you cut away their grief, how do you make it easy to discuss something so sad as a death?  Maybe that little bit of reminder from her Mom was symbolic of a message we do need to convey: Yes, it is ok to move on: life is waiting in the wings.