When a best friend’s dad is dying
It is sometimes possible to process or compartmentalize events that have already happened, but when they are happening all day, every day to someone, all of my training amounts to inadequacy. How do I love her best? Surely there is something more than making myself available, assuring her she is not insane and transmitting figurative waves of sustenance. Surely there is more than occupying a guy so she can talk to his friend who actually has something insightful to say. She went to the bathroom and he asked if I knew what was going on. OF COURSE. Did I do something so bad that he could even wonder? Surely after much of a lifetime with someone you should not be at such a loss. I am not afraid of diving into pain. I am not repelled by it. I am not uncomfortable with it. I am afraid that I am just not good enough at it and that no one can be.
