Remembering

Last night, I went to the visitation for a family friends that I hadn't seen in years. When we were kids, he and his family's house was behind my family's house. His little sister was my best friend. We were inseparable, until they moved away while we were still in elementary school. Our family stayed in close touch for a few years after that, visiting each other during the Summers. The last time I remember seeing them, I was either in high school, and then life got busy and I lost contact with them.

When I saw my friend and her parents last night, they greeted me with the same warmth that I remember from my childhood. We recalled memories of times we were together and shared stories all the changes that have happened in the past 20 years.

As I made the drive home, I kept bouncing between two emotions. 

First, I was sad. Sad that Holly and her family were suffering a grief I know all to well. Sad that life has caused us to lose touch. We have so many memories and fun times together. Their family were the ones that got my parents started with the Ski Club. I have no idea what my life would be like if it wasn't for boating and living the lake life, and it all began there. I do wonder what my life would be like if Holly and I had remained closer to all of these years.

Second, I was filled with hope. Hope that we might reconnect and rekindle our friendship. After all, we do now share a bond of losing a sibling/child. And, I was struck by one particular of that bond. Today, they celebrated and buried Ben. Nine years ago today, we stood in the First Christian Church in Greenville celebrating the life of my sister-in-law Jenni and saying goodbye for the "last" time. As we talked yesterday, I could truly relate to the exhaustion, the pain, and the sadness.  

I wish I could tell them that it gets easier, but that would be a lie. Instead, it just becomes "normal." In other words, you get used to the idea of them being gone. You get used to family events without them. You get used to looking at the same old pictures because you don't have any new ones. You get used to the same stories you tell your kids so they will feel like they know them, and you'll get used to your kids starting to tell those stories because you've told them so many times. You get used to grief sneaking up on you in weird moments when all else seems normal, but something caused you to reminisce and wish they were there with you. And those moments will never be easy. It's been 9 years since we said goodbye, and we still miss Jenni all of the time.