My friend Charley died last Friday. Or Thursday. We aren’t exactly sure as it was after his wife went to bed and before she woke up in the morning. With this news of experiencing loss, which hit like one would imagine a true electrical shock, I sobbed – including that wailing kind that comes from some place way deep down inside that you find yourself surprised exists. That lasted for about 15 minutes and I haven’t cried since. My eyes were wet as I was getting ready to go to his funeral. But even when hugging his wife and children, hugging my friends – our friends – of 20 years, and seeing him in the casket, I didn’t cry. At first I thought maybe that was it, I didn’t have anything more in me.
But I haven’t been sleeping well, the last two nights in particular. I’ve actually stayed up until 2am both nights keeping myself busy with interesting but unnecessary tasks; especially when staying up so late causes bags under my eyes the next morning that are so big Preparation H can’t begin to touch them. (NOTE: just in case you’re someone who has never heard about this practice, the Preparation H goes UNDER the eyes, not in them…and like the other tissue it’s meant to shrink, it works well for those occasional saddlebags under the eyes caused from hours of crying or sleepless nights).
I feel restless inside. There is a weird energy buzzing around in my chest and arms. I feel somewhat hyped up but not with productive energy. It’s hard to focus. Hard to not be distracted. Actually since starting this, I’ve stopped to text my daughter, exchange a pair of shoes on ZAPPOS and play with the dog. Notice, working was not one of the things on the list. The ability to focus on work has eluded me.
Coincidentally, my daughter has had trouble sleeping lately, too. She has not been able to sleep since Stanley, the tiny kitten she rescued also died last Friday. She had found him in an alley behind the salon she manages after he’d been abandoned on a very hot July day by his mother. Although I knew what this meant, there was no convincing my most sensitive and empathic adult child that she shouldn’t take this straggly black kitten home. At the vet, they asked her if she was taking responsibility for him and that was it. I’m guessing that the vet bills for poor little Stanley accumulated to over $600 in the two months she had him, but in that time she gave him immense love and comfort. And she made it so when his time came, he didn’t die alone. When she called on her way home from work this afternoon, she said that without him cuddled up in bed with her, she hasn’t been able to sleep. I recognized the energy, that tired yet restless energy that now consumes us both.
What shifted everything for me was reading an email about a retreat with Sylvia Boorstein, a psychologist and leading teacher of Insight Meditation. Her article called “A Bad Day at the Airport” caught my eye, since in less than a month I will be traveling through quite a few airports. Her piece was awesome. All about her practice of blessing stressful moments, to cultivate and sustain peace of mind and goodwill. It’s simple really. When she encounters difficult emotions, she says to herself,
May I meet this moment fully.
May I meet it as a friend.
The first sentence is a reminder to her that an alert and balanced mind is a possibility for us all. The second, reminds her that her mind’s natural benevolence is her best refuge. I totally get that. When I’m stressed or emotional, it’s so easy to let my mind go into a harsh and unfriendly space…toward myself or others.
When we are able to meet moments fully, as a friend, amazing things can happen. Take for instance when my BFF and I were to meet up in Heathrow Airport to spend a few days in the Cotswolds. I arrived from Paris on time…her flight from Frankfort never left the ground due to an unusual spring storm. So, I’m in London’s huge airport not knowing what happened to her or how to get in touch with her (at that time she didn’t have international service set up). Not only was I worried, but I soon became scared finding myself all alone in this huge space with no clue of Plan B. So, I lugged my bags all over Heathrow trying to find out what was happening in Frankfort. An hour later and no progress, I schlepped up to their bar needing to find a plugin for my cell phone and a drink for my nerves. Since it was around 10am, I went for Irish Coffee. As I sat there taking deep breaths and allowing my mind to bring the present into focus, I saw a beautiful blonde-haired woman walk into the crowded bar. I recognized her as we had “small-talked” on one of the elevators earlier. She was also looking to charge her phone, so I motioned her over. I learned that she was supposed to be flying to Frankfort for an important business meeting. It wasn’t meant to be. What did happen was, as we spent the day together watching the airport updates, intermittently working on laptops and trying to determine next steps, I ended up having one of the best experiences ever…and finding a new VIP (very important friend). Had I stayed flustered and frustrated, I would have totally missed that opportunity for connecting with an amazing woman and developing one of the best friendships of my adult life.
So, back to Charley. Reading Sylvia’s blog post made me realize that since the news of Charley’s death last week, I have been just moving….from the sadness at realizing I will not hug him again or hear his laugh, to the irritation of losing my place in line at the visitation not once but three times, to anger when certain things were said by certain misinformed individuals, to the realization that I’m at that age now where saying goodbye to important people from this life is going to happen more and more. I now realize that my daughter and I need to quit moving. In order to eventually move through our grief, we must first be able to be still and present, acknowledging and giving a name to what we are feeling. Then must meet these experiences of loss fully and face to face, as our friend.
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