As I mentioned last time I wrote, my friend Sonya's dad died a week ago. Today was the memorial, and my mom and I went. It was hard, as all memorials are; yet every time we have an opportunity to grieve I think we release a little more of the pain we carry with us. Every time - and of the 7 of us who were close in high school, 4 of them have already lost their fathers - I go to one of these, I grieve for myself as well, for having lost my own father at age 24. I can also measure how much less the pain is now. Sonya looked so exhausted; it's an echo and a reflection of myself at the same time. She and her mother were so unbelievably gracious; both of them had such kind words to say to my mother and me for what we had been through, at a time for them when it's enough just to be standing upright.
Sonya's family is like mine in so many ways: parents well-suited to one another, upper-middle class family, conservative values, fathers who were in science, mothers who stayed home and raised us, but were active volunteers and community contributors; fathers who took us outdoors and taught us to love nature... all of the solidity of the nuclear family that is so very rare. And beyond that, they built a community that I find so elusive. Our friendship - the 7 of us - it is enduring in a long-distance way - we look each other up at Christmas, keep informed of major events in each other's lives. And as I pointed out to Sonya, it has been 23 years since we met. We were in the same orientation group as freshmen in high school - both of us a rare, relatively unconnected person to the class overall. Both super-tall. So we shared a locker, and the friendship grew from there.
The generation before me - my experiences of it, the families I'm connected to - have such a rock solid, amazing life, all I could hope for: family, faith, community, children, someone to take care of you. I've put together the foundation for this now... my home, my church, my community... but bringing the people in is so very, very hard. We find so many ways to separate ourselves from one another, something I see ever-growing as we can use machines and stay at home and not have to do anything that or interact with anyone that makes us uncomfortable. It makes us weak, and divided.
Melancholy thoughts of a melancholy night. I want the solidity of the life I described, and yet my way would not be the same as what my parents had... the service today, at one point they mentioned the promise to believers of life after death... that made me sigh in frustration. But one can have their own variation on that theme and still have the theme itself...
Take care of each other.
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