Yesterday was Nancy's funeral. I expected to be red-eyed throughout. I wasn't. The times I cried were when the I saw acts of comfort being delivered to the overwhelmed. I watched as one of Nancy's good friends, rubbed Nancy's mom's shoulder when the coffin lid was shut. The amount of shuddering of the shoulders let those behind her know that she was having a rough go of it. Denise, Nancy's friend, now comforted Nancy's mom. The shuddering subsided and she dabbed a tissue under her glasses. Those were the times when I teared up.
That scenario was repeated over and over. As grief swelled to overwhelm the attendee, another close by would rub their back, hug them, and just let the overwhelmed know that they were not alone.
Is'nt that what scares us? I know it does me. To be alone. It is so healing when someone else is able to acknowledge our pain and demonstrate in a physical way that there is comfort.
1 comment:
I have been thinking about that blog entry, and my own emergence from doctoral studies. One spends a great deal of time in this process thinking, alone, and at times feeling out of communication with the rest of the world.
Meditation, prayer, praxis; we strive to think critically within ourselves to make meaning, yet we still crave connections to others. This is a delicious paradox, we go deeper within to think, while yearning for more outside connection.
The power and process of healing seems to be involved with opening this two way communication; deeper understanding with oneself, while making ourselves open to joining with others. As you suggest, I think often we focus on the easily tangible news and routine drama of the day; sort of junk-food for the communication process; no real substance, but lots of emotional empty calories. I think comfortable silence is a wonderful gift to share with people; where nothing needs to be said, because the communication of our intent to listen is so clear.
Post a Comment