March 10, 2023

I was asked to do a reading at my friend Lori’s wedding to her husband Josh many years ago. I searched for something fitting for quite a while and loved best Kahlil Gibran’s poetic words in The Prophet about friendship. It was fitting for her and Josh. It’s fitting for Bryan and me. And it’s fitting for Lori and me, too:

And a youth said, Speak to us of Friendship.
    And he answered, saying:
    Your friend is your needs answered.
    He is your field which you sow with love and reap with thanksgiving.
    And he is your board and your fireside.
    For you come to him with your hunger, and you seek him for peace.

    When your friend speaks his mind you fear not the “nay” in your own mind, nor do you withhold the “ay.”
    And when he is silent your heart ceases not to listen to his heart;
    For without words, in friendship, all thoughts, all desires, all expectations are born and shared, with joy that is unacclaimed.
    When you part from your friend, you grieve not;
    For that which you love most in him may be clearer in his absence, as the mountain to the climber is clearer from the plain.
    And let there be no purpose in friendship save the deepening of the spirit.
    For love that seeks aught but the disclosure of its own mystery is not love but a net cast forth: and only the unprofitable is caught.

    And let your best be for your friend.
    If he must know the ebb of your tide, let him know its flood also.
    For what is your friend that you should seek him with hours to kill?
    Seek him always with hours to live.
    For it is his to fill your need but not your emptiness.
    And in the sweetness of friendship let there be laughter, and sharing of pleasures.
    For in the dew of little things the heart finds its morning and is refreshed.

This past week has been medicine and my heart has been refreshed. In so many ways since Bryan passed I have felt like an untethered boat in a big storm with no oars, no sails. The friends and family who have been surrounding me, comforting me, reminding me of myself have been tugboats pulling me through this storm. I am incredibly fortunate to have people who sit in silence with me and my grief and sometimes they turn that silence into laughter or music.

There have been moments that I’ve really detested about this week and I’m glad I didn’t have to face them alone. I had to go to the funeral home to collect a sheet and sign a final “goods and services” form. Lord have mercy. Then I had to take the sharps from all the insulin I was giving Bryan (steroids cause high blood sugar) to the county health department so they can dispose of them appropriately. Yesterday, I made my way to the walk-in clinic for a minor health concern (please don’t worry) and in filling out the paperwork had to mark marital status as “widowed.” Not sure why that was entirely necessary, but damn, something so benign took my breath like I’d been punched.

So to balance these moments of sorrow, we’ve enjoyed delicious meals at a variety of places in town, went for a drive up into the Blues, hiked around Bennington, did some wine-tasting, played all kinds of music, I danced while Lori made inciteful commentary about my sign-language-adjacent style (laugh with me), we played Bananagrams (PEEL!), and watched comedy. I’m so fortunate to have her here and sad that she’s leaving already. We always say at the end of our visits that they go by too quickly. And they do. They really do.

-B