Grids and gatherings
Yesterday was an incredible, tough day.
Yesterday more than 600 people gathered at a town hall in a small bush town to say goodbye to a friend. She was a friend to so many – a strong, no-nonsense, no-holds-barred kind of friend. She was someone who was part of my world forever. Not an everyday part, we weren’t best buddies, we shared different generations, so moved in different circles that gently overlapped. Yet she was alwasy a familiar and steady presence. Lately we had become closer. I was to do a project with her, something I was looking forward to. A project that stands unfulfilled and hollow now.
.
She had lived an interesting life before she was suddenly gone – some bits seemingly everyday and ordinary, the same bits that were shining highlights to her. Other bits were much tougher, confronting, soul-searching. Things she was brave enough to face and confront and search through. She had a lot to give, this friend.
.
She had lived an interesting life before she was suddenly gone – some bits seemingly everyday and ordinary, the same bits that were shining highlights to her. Other bits were much tougher, confronting, soul-searching. Things she was brave enough to face and confront and search through. She had a lot to give, this friend.
And she gave in spades.
.
So many people had been touched by her. Her family. Her friends. Those she counselled. Those she leant on. Those who leant on her. Those of many different generations. She was one of those people who connected. She held networks of people together – networks that will all feel her loss deeply. I have wonderful handwritten notes from her, on the birth of my children, when things got tough with Dash. She was unafraid to reach out when she saw someone who needed some support. She was real. And she made a difference.
Death is such a confronting thing. A terrible thing. But our friend was ready for it. Her eulogy already written, everything in order for such an event. Initially this preparedness shocked me a little. But now it seems the most thoughtful, sensible thing one could possibly do. Her effort to make it easier for those left behind. A natural thing for her.
.
It was something that made me stop.
.
So many people had been touched by her. Her family. Her friends. Those she counselled. Those she leant on. Those who leant on her. Those of many different generations. She was one of those people who connected. She held networks of people together – networks that will all feel her loss deeply. I have wonderful handwritten notes from her, on the birth of my children, when things got tough with Dash. She was unafraid to reach out when she saw someone who needed some support. She was real. And she made a difference.
Death is such a confronting thing. A terrible thing. But our friend was ready for it. Her eulogy already written, everything in order for such an event. Initially this preparedness shocked me a little. But now it seems the most thoughtful, sensible thing one could possibly do. Her effort to make it easier for those left behind. A natural thing for her.
.
It was something that made me stop.
Not to wonder what is beyond the grid we pass over when we leave this life.
Not to worry about that beyond our horizons, that which we cannot see and feel right now.
But to think: what would my family do?
Would I have made it easier for them, or would my total lack of preparedness leave them floundering in a sea of grief and not knowing what to do…
Excuse me.
I think I have something I need to write.
