When you lose a friend, much too young, there’s a hole in your heart. Some days you can fill up that hole–at least for a while– simply by the act of remembrance. Today, a group of us marked the day we lost Lisa….two years exactly after her death.
We friends gathered with her mother and her godmother (who met Lisa the day she was born!) to reminisce about Lisa’s life, laughter, and love.
We met at the cemetery on a windy, cool, sunny day and proceeded to Lisa’s grave site. We brought wine, chocolates, and flowers and I’m sure the local deer had a feast later on. We read a few poems and prayers, and toasted Lisa with bubbly. She would have approved. We shed a few tears, and a few laughs too.
In fact, if you’d seen us later at the restaurant, laughing and talking in animated delight, you would probably not have guessed that we were a group gathered to mourn…and remember…our much-missed friend, who died, while still a young mother, of breast cancer.
But Lisa would have appreciated every minute….she would have been leading the funny tales told on her (“remember how she couldn’t figure out how to get into her iPad, and kept entering the four digit code, but she was pressing the white boxes, not the numbers!”) She would have thrown back her head and laughed and loved it all. She would have especially loved hearing about her son–how well he is doing, and what a kind and fine person he is.
Our luncheon was a real treat, truly delicious, both the food and the conversation. A sort of magic surrounded us, protective and tender, letting time stop, freezing a moment that was suffused with an aura of hopefulness, connection and love. It fed our souls.
“She whom we love
Is no longer
Where she was before.
She is now
Wherever we are.”
St. John Chrysostom, from Life Prayers
Yes, I believe that’s true.
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