This past Saturday, I buried a childhood friend. A few months before she died, she shared a memory with me: the two of us, sitting together under the stars, talking on the bunk steps at summer camp. It never occurred to me then that this day could come so soon.
With Father’s Day, this weekend was a one-two punch for me. When my dad died in the summer of 2009, I buried my entire family, though I didn’t know it at the time; almost seven years on, I am still in the process of understanding it, accepting it, and being of good cheer in spite of it. It isn’t always easy.
On my long ride home from the funeral, I felt gripped by a kind of nebulous nostalgia that almost took my breath away. The gathering had been filled to overflowing with the power of everlasting love and hope. I knew I was a part of that circle and I also felt held by it. But I was still vulnerable to those rogue waves of grief that can knock you over and tumble you like a rock at the ocean’s edge. I think we all are.
Tomorrow is promised to no one. And time is short. Healing our grief, making peace with our regrets, and remembering that no one walks the road of recovery alone are all essential. Kindred spirits are everywhere. We’re all in this together. And the power of love will see you through to your new safe harbor home, one day at a time.
I was asked to sing my friend’s favorite song during her service. And the next morning, on Father’s Day, I decided to record it and make it into a slideshow. For anyone who isn’t having the easiest time right now, for whatever reason, “Here comes the sun, it’s alright…”