9.26.11

A loyal At least...that's my intention reader lost her father today.


I am heartbroken for her, mostly because I am putting myself in her shoes and feeling unimaginable grief. 


My way of coping with death is humor (I believe I mentioned earlier this month I enjoy thinking of Dane Cook bits while at funerals). I suppose a psychologist could label this as "avoidance." I prefer to think of it as "positive coping mechanism." I've been perusing one of her favorite sites (etsy) for a little pick-me-up package. I found a card that said, "Things could be worse...you could have herpes. You don't have herpes, do you?"


I laughed out loud, and if someone sent it to me in a time of sadness, I would probably laugh just as loud as I did today, if not louder, and I would welcome the relaxation in my face as I smiled. (Not to worry; I'm not purchasing it to send to anyone.)


In my most favorite essay, Transcending, Kelly Corrigan writes of the value of girlfriends in times of intense need. 


Eventually, someone who's not supposed to die will--maybe one of us, maybe a husband, God forbid a child--and all this celebrating and sharing and confessing will make certain essential comforts possible. We'll rally around and hold each other up, and it won't be nearly enough but it will help the time pass just a hair faster than it would have otherwise. We will wait patiently and lovingly for that first laugh after the loss. When it comes, and it will come, we will cry as we howl, as we clutch, as we circle. We will transcend, ladies. Because we did all this, in that worst moment, we will transcend.


Kate, I can't wait to hear about the first time you feel joy come back into your heart, when you feel that laugh heal you just a little bit, and that sensation of, "Yes, I'm going to be okay" runs through you, if just for a fleeting moment. 


Until then, I know your friends who are so near to you will rally around--they'll bake casseroles, and bring tissues, and offer you hugs and arms and shoulders and words. 


And you'll transcend. In this moment, and each that follows, you will transcend.