How do we feel when a friend leaves us?

We have known each other for 35 years. And now she is leaving.  Her eyes sparkle. She and her husband are moving to Colorado to be near their grown daughters. She wants me to share her excitement.

And part of me truly does rejoice for her. But at the same time, it's all I can do to hold back my tears. I feel bereft. She’ll be gone.

We call that person who loses his father, an orphan; and a widow is someone who loses her spouse. But what of the person who knows the heartache of losing a friend? By what name do we call her? We have no special words; no rituals to express our grief. 

Losing a friend can come at any age, but somehow the loss hits us harder as we get older. Maybe it’s because, as the old saying goes, “A good friend is like a tree; it takes a long time to grow one.”

Our deepest friendships bring so much more than the social chitchat of people I call my “Friendlies.”  Anais Nin wrote, ”Each friend represents a world in us, a world not born until they arrive, and it is only by this meeting that a new world is born.”

My friend and I have had such a special world. We tell each other things we tell no one else, not our husbands, not our children, not other friends. We share our mutual spiritual journeys.  We feel safe to confess our foibles to each other. We laugh together! 

We comfort each other.  We easily say “I love you.” 

I know my friend will always feel deep affection for me, and I for her. 

But it won’t be the same.

She no longer will live 1.2 miles from me. No longer be someone I pick up to go places. No longer be the person I see almost weekly; the friend I know is “there.”

So I remind myself, 

Friendship is like

    Intertwined branches.

We grow toward the sun

    In similar fashion.

Our branches blossom.

But we are not one tree.

How do you celebrate Mother's Day after your mom has died?

I didn’t expect it when I passed the rack of Mother’s Day cards. But suddenly it hit me like a fist in the gut. “I can’t send one of these any more. My mom is gone.”

She had died 6 months earlier.

Losing a parent is the one life passage that all of us experience. If our parent is at an age when death is  more or less expected, the depth of our grief may catch us by surprise. 

But, just as I nearly doubled over at the sight of a Mother’s Day card, we realize, “It doesn’t matter that she’s 90. She’s my mom! And she’s gone!”

Here are 3 ways to help you over the hurdle of that first Mother’s Day:

• Honor other moms in your life. I now send cards to my mother’s sisters and my daughter and daughters-in-law; even to an older friend who’s been like a mom to me.
• Talk to those whose lives your mom touched: her friends, her siblings. Ask questions that you've never taken time before to ask. Learn to see her not only as your mom but as the special person she was to other people.
• Remember your mom is creative ways: three sisters I know go to their mother’s gravesite and share stories and laughter. Another friend always makes an upside down cake from her mother’s special recipe to serve on Mother’s Day. Another  wears a ring that belonged to her mom.

After my parents died just two years apart, I wrote the book, NOBODY’S CHILD ANYMORE: Caring, Grieving, Comforting When Parents Die (Ave Maria Press, ISBN 1-893732-21-5)  I wanted to offer compassionate help to other ‘adult orphans’ and I’m grateful to know it has been in print for 15 years.  Perhaps the true stories--and the “steps forward” that accompany each story-- will be a help to you. You can find it on Amazon http://www.Amazon.com or http://www.AveMariaPress.com 

A caregiver's grief

Riza is 33. Her husband Tod has early-onset Parkinson’s disease. She told me, “I am grieving the loss of our dreams.”  Their dreams of having children, of watching Tod's career expand, of continuing activities  they previously enjoyed—like hiking and camping.  Riza is feeling caregivers’ grief:  the relentless on-going process brought about, not by a loved one’s death, but by the changed aspects of life.

Caregivers’ grief seldom comes in a neat, orderly package: you might feel tearful and hopeful at the very same time.  Your emotions can take as many twists and turns as your loved one’s illness. Sometimes you'd  like to run away from it all.

Riza's Prayer: O Lord, as I travel this journey

I did not choose, 

Strengthen me to cope with the messiness.

The turmoil.

And most of all,

Comfort me and my loved one.

Help us to bear our tears.