Sunday, I went to the cemetary to remove the evergreen wreath and replace it with a valentines themed one. The new one probably won't be there for too long, but the Christmas one needed to come down. Anyway, I often see one or two other people visiting the cemetary when I go, especially on Sunday afternoons, however, yesterday was a very wet and rainy day here. I probably wouldn't have gone if it weren't the only practical day for me to go before Valentine's. I really didn't expect to see anyone there in the rain, but while I was hanging the new wreath, someone drove to the next cemetary "block" over and stood by a new grave. I knew that there had been a funeral on Saturday. The man who died has a daughter in my high school graduating class. She isn't someone I knew well, but in a graduating class of only 130 students, it's unusual not to at least know names and faces. It was her that I saw standing by the grave.
One of the things I've gotten out of my experience with Renee is a deep sympathy for others' grief. When I see people experiencing a big loss in their life, I just really want to help them. Of course, I always felt bad for people before, but I think I aproached it differently than I used to. There are so many thing that people say that help so little. In fact there are a lot of things that people say with good intentions that end up just making a person feel worse. The things that helped me were those looks from certain people. I have no idea what some of these people's experiences have been, but there's a look that people who have felt a terrible loss have when they tell you they are sorry about your loss. I don't really know how to explain it, but you just know that they've been through these emotions before. It's a look of understanding and compasion. Those looks, along with brief expressions of sympathy, gave me much more comfort than anything that anyone said. I know that I'll see Renee again. After she was burried, I "knew" that someday I wouldn't feel so miserable, but I couldn't see the end of my grief. I was told that the first year is the worst, but I couldn't imagine waking up after that first anniversary was past and feeling better about my daughter being gone. Seeing that look was a testimony to me that there would be a time I'd feel better about it. It was a look that said, "Yes, what you are going through is terrible, but it will pass. I know because I've been there." I imagine that it's the look Christ would give us if we were telling him about our trials face to face.
So when I saw my former classmate standing over her father's grave, I felt compelled to at least attempt to give her some of what had helped me. I didn't say much. Her grief is still very new, so I doubt she remembers much of what I did say, but I hope that I was able to share with her some of what was shared with me. Some Hope for the future, and, even if it was only for a few minutes, a friend.
A while back, William asked for an apple as a snack. Usually, I quarter and core apples for the kids, but he requested the whole apple. I didn't expect him to eat the whole thing, but when he told me he was done, this was all that was left of his apple!
Those stayed in his mouth for a whole 5 seconds!
