The Circle of Life in New York City

This post is dedicated to my friend’s father, may he rest in peace and may his family know and remember how good a man he was and all that he wanted for his family.

My last week was absolutely wonderful,  I sincerely mean that.  I had the opportunity to get recharged at church, celebrate another year for a friend and was invited to remember a very good friends father who had passed. As I sat in my breast-feeding education classes for doulas and had a moment to reflect ont he horrifying story that my classmate shared. I realized that for a few days, I had been thinking about what  our “last” moments are like and  sometimes we really have no idea that they will be last moments with our loved ones.

Thursday and Friday: I was sick on Thursday. I got up with my normal burst of energy, super excited about  a day to work from  home.  Then, I got sick and was in bed until Friday afternoon. As I got out of bed and came out of my cave, I eventually got to checking email and texts. My friend sent me news of her fathers funeral. My phone feel on the bed and I gasped “what?” and I wanted to run over and just give my friends and their family a hug, let them cry on me or whatever they might have been feeling at the time.

The next email was of a birthday brunch that my boyfriend and I were hosting for his (and now my) dear friend. She was celebrating another year on this planet. A year to try to be a better person in her personal and professional life; another year to share with her family and friends.

Sunday Morning: In my breastfeeding class (I am in the process of becoming a certified doula, no pregnancy news for me folks) it really hit me. I was dressed in black, preparing to go from this class to the funeral. Almost every person in class told me how nice I looked and when I told them I was on my way to funeral after class people were pretty shocked.  Considering we were in a space celebrating how to “properly support women and families” welcoming a new life, I thought that my afternoon activity should destroy the spirit of the class.

Sunday Afternoon: My time at the wake, made me slighty jealous (another blog post) of the man who my friends had as a father. This man loved his family and his family loved him. I had the honor of meeting him and I remember that him and his wife talked to me about God and how their faith welcomed opportunities, blessings and times of hardships. I sat in the church listening to people cry and hating that fact that this is they way that I first met my friend’s daughter, at her fathers funeral. Yet, I am certain that this man held on to visit and welcome this grandchild into the world. I remember being at another celebration (a grandchilds’ graduation) with my friend’s father where he told me “I am ready to go”.  At the time, I remember not laughing or being sad but just letting me acknowledge his feelings. He told me that he wasn’t complaining but that he had lived.  He had  nine wonderful children, amazing grandchildren.

I am sharing my weekend with you because sometimes life might not be easy and uber cheerful. I do realize that in the span of three days and three specific settings the common denominator was love.  Maybe, I am getting older and I am becoming a hippie or maybe, I am fortunate enough that all that I do and all the people who are in my circle are fortunate to really love the people around them and the work that they are doing. I have no idea what this week will be like or if I even make it to the end of the week. I do know that everyday I wakeup I say the same prayer and  I sincerely hope to be surrounded by love.

To my friend’s father may he rest in peace and may his memory serve as a strong reminder that love is kind, gentle and always present.


~ by travelling womanists on October 1, 2012.

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