The Loss of a Friend
People I care about are leaving this world.
I want to honor them with the life I live. I’m not talking about being a good person or doing a lot of charity work or taking on causes or achieving anything at all.
I’m talking about incorporating into my life what I loved in theirs.
It is amazing how many times death has implanted motivation deeply inside me. Several years ago, a friend had a grandchild who struggled in the NICU before leaving this earth at a very early age. Yet, whenever I get to the point when I feel like giving up, I remember this tiny baby. I say to myself, if that little baby could fight so hard, so can I.
Now I’ve lost a friend who I found delightful. It is the delight in her I must honor by loving the delight in my own life.
The slice of sun lighting the roof of the school next door.
The squeak of the dog’s teeth against her chew toy.
The gurgling of my husband’s coffee pot which he uses as a tea pot.
The tiny tree on the window sill standing tall, holding its arms as high as possible.
If I feel myself slipping back into worry and angst and that looping thing my brain does when it can’t figure something out—a constant digging of a trench like a backhoe caught in gear and circling, circling—I will remember her. I will literally switch gears.
I will love the things God has put into life for the sole purpose of me loving them.
The hardest thing, I think, is to figure out in this diverse, complex world what we can best offer it. We have so many, good, valid choices on how to live our lives. Which one is for us?
Of all the wonderful qualities my friend had, the best thing she offered me was our connecting with each other over simple, unimportant, sometimes silly things that delighted us both.
In honor of my friend, I will honor delight. I will look out on this world and, as long as I’m here, I will focus on the My Friends are Dead book I think is so funny.
I’ll laugh at how silly my dog looks when she’s flopped onto her back, tummy up.
I will see an image of Eric Northman and sigh.
For her, I will love life. I will connect with others in delight. I will do my best to honor her.
here’s to creative synthesis . . . .
death, finding your purpose, focus on delight in your life, honoring the dead, how to honor the dead, the impact of death, when your friends die
Luanne
I’m sorry about the loss of your friend, Ellen. Your determination to use her inspiration to find delight in your life is wonderful. Thank you for sharing this.
Ellen Morris Prewitt
Thank you, Luanne. It really hit home that she made me happy because we connected on mundane things. How simple is that?
menomama3
It’s so sad, isn’t it, that it takes the loss of a dear friend to remind us of the value of simple pleasures and to make us switch gears. Take care, Ellen.
Ellen Morris Prewitt
Exactly, Suzanne. A lesson everything in my life right now seems to be screaming at me to pay attention to.
Joanne Corey
A beautiful post and a beautiful way to honor your friend now and in the years to come. Coincidentally, I was up in the middle of the night earlier this week writing a poem about a friend who we lost nine years ago. Her life continues to bear fruit among so many of us who knew her. Thank you for sharing your friend and her legacy in your life with us. Wishing you peace, and, of course, delight.
Ellen Morris Prewitt
Thank you, Joanne. You are right: this is the way lives live on. So glad you had your friend in yours.