Holding that which is precious

I was checking one last email before hopping into the shower, an email entitled "Jeannie's Husband" from my friend Amanda.

"Mel, my sister just called me. Jeannie's husband passed away in his sleep. My sister is trying to let everyone know, so I told her I would reach out to you. I gave her your email address so she will reach out with funeral information, as right now Jeannie isn't able to handle any of that, understandably." I stared at my computer and read these words, over and over again, with very little processing the actual meaning.

Jeannie. Jeannie. Jeannie. Mother of 3 fantastic boys, survivor of the suicide of her mother, a devoted wife, a dedicated worker, a dear sweet friend. Jeannie and I worked together at Regis and got to know each other through a potluck women's group. We did the things girlfriends do, drink wine, shopped til we dropped, gossiped. After Mike died, Jeannie gave me a white stuffed bear whom I named Hugs, and who has been with me in all my times of transition.

When I moved to Montrose, we stopped talking though. Maybe it was the distance, where it was hard to keep a strong connection going. I thought I had said or done something upsetting but couldn't remember what. Almost two years went by and two months ago, the thought of Jeannie filled my heart one day driving to work. I called her, left her a message that "for whatever reason we stopped talking, I want you know I am thinking of you and I miss you." She texted me, we got a lunch date on the books, and spent two hours doing what we did best as girlfriends…sipped wine, ate great food, and talked the entire two hours. I can't help but notice the timing in it all, that had I not been back in Jeannie's circle I may not have known this had happened until later.

I know many people think I understand, that I have "been there" and know what she is going through. And I do, to an extent. But I couldn't imagine what it would be like to wake up on a Friday morning, anticipating the weekend with my family, starting a normal day with coffee, shower, newspaper, and breakfast, and as I face that day looking over to my spouse to wake him up and he won't. Won't wake up.

I do, though, understand what it feels like to wake up subsequent mornings without him there. To start a new day without sharing a routine, or anticipating a weekend. That I do know, and that my heart pains on behalf of my dear friend Jeannie. And I feel blessed to be back in her circle so that I can extend the love and support I know I can give her during a time like this.

Today, tomorrow, and subsequent days in the future, hold those precious ones closely. Tell them you love them. Tell them what they mean to you. That is the "present" in the "present moment." To give the gift of loving care because tomorrow they may not be there.

XO Mel