APRIL 3
A faithful friend is the medicine of life.
—THE APOCRYPHADuring the week following the memorial service for our
daughter, a friend called me every morning. She was taking
her teenage son to basketball camp a half hour’s drive into
the country and asked if I would like to ride along.
I was hesitant. I hadn’t known this friend for very long. I
knew she would encourage me to talk. Did I really want to?
Would I be so overwrought that I’d embarrass myself?
It was a risk for me—as it was for her to invite me. But I
went—the first day, and then each day throughout the week.
Our rides to camp with her son were mostly quiet. But on
the way back we would often stop at the park, get a drink
of something, and sit under a tree for a while. I talked, and
talked, and cried, and talked. About what? About the feeling
of loss, the day’s trivia, the rest of the family, the unfinished
business with my daughter.
They were emotional times, of course, filled with articu-
lated pain. But each day as she dropped me off at my house,
I felt better, able to go on. The pressure was released once
more—as steam is released when the lid is lifted from a
boiling pot. It was as elemental, as simple, as incontrovert-
ible, as that.
Friends can help keep the flow of grief moving.