My aunt buried two husbands. She has never stepped foot in a funeral home since. It’s been 25 years. I never quite understood that till yesterday. I went to the funeral home with several of my classmates after we met for coffee yesterday. I’ve been once before since Mr. Virgo died. It was someone from church. A young man who died from a drug overdose. I wasn’t that close to the family. I did fine.

Yesterday? Not so much. I hugged my friend and did my best to comfort her. One by one, my classmates hugged her. I was fine till she broke down in sobs and it broke my heart. For her. And for me. I had compartmentalized that huge dose of raw anguish and haven’t looked at it in a long time. You can’t avoid it when it’s smacking you in the face.

It wasn’t too long till one of my friends tugged me by the elbow and said, “Let’s go outside.” I was so grateful. I felt like a deer in the headlights and I’m not sure how much longer I could have stood there. When we got outside, she asked if I was ok. She said as soon as Deb started crying, I was shaking like a leaf. I was surprised because I didn’t feel that. I just felt trapped…and torn. On the one hand I wanted to support my friend. On the other, I wanted to run like hell out of there.

My way of handling stress has been forever altered by grief. I didn’t take inventory of my feelings yesterday at the funeral home. Instead, I tried to be strong for my friend where she of all people would have understood if I would have just said, “I’m here for a hug, honey…and I can’t stay.” She’s lost a husband. She understands.

Give yourself permission to not be perfect. Give yourself all the time you need to grieve. Don’t make excuses for why you can’t do something. If you can’t, you can’t. It’s ok.

❤️

“a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance,”

Ecclesiastes 3:4 NIV