I received an e-mail yesterday asking for prayer for a friend's mom who was just admitted to the hospital. I didn't have to read the whole sentence to know her condition. I got as far as, "... with Cong--" That's all I had to read to know she had Congestive Heart Failure.
Congestive Heart Failure
That's all I had to read to go right back to reading the paperwork from the nurses in Room 714 after a long morning. See, I immediately read that e-mail and went back but then I quickly went back to the night before Scott's funeral and actually confronting what had happened with Pop, even with how I felt about seeing people I loved next to a casket. I would've gladly buried my own dad a thousand times if it meant no one else had to do that.
But, being open and honest about that kind of stuff? Wow, that was pretty big for me. I don't really have many tender moments, I'm always exactly what I need to be, strong, even if everyone sees through it.
What happened this night was, he caught me when I was more vulnerable, after a few drinks, the same day as a visitation. I was far more willing to discuss than normal unfortunately, or maybe fortunately? I think it was good for me.
We were getting ready for bed, setting alarms, and talking about when we had to get up the next morning. I told him I had to be home by 9 for a funeral. He knew, my parents were no longer alive, but I hadn't brought it up. I remember lying there in bed and then he asked me something that I really hadn't be asked before,
"What happened? How'd your parents pass away?"
"Well, mom had lung cancer, and-"
"Well, no your dad."
"Congestive Heart Failure," and then I explained the last couple weeks of my dad's life.
I was completely open and honest about my father's death for the first time. (including with myself)
And, he didn't say much, just listened? Which was different, he didn't try to fix anything. All he did was move his arm around me when I got real quiet. In that instance, that's all I needed. For the prior 5 months, that's all I needed. I didn't need anyone to try to fix it, or make me feel better, all I needed was someone to just put their arm around me. In that moment, I felt like it was less about Pop and more about me, like someone actually cared about me. (Or, at least pretended to) It didn't matter if it was real or not, I just needed someone to act like they were concerned. (I'm certainly not here arguing how "real" that was, I don't care. It helped, real or not.)
What's crazy is how one question caused me to totally let my guard down. One stinking question! Man.
See, I don't think that would've happened with anyone else, because anyone else that had known me for a while would've known already and just not asked. Everyone knew Pop wasn't in good health anyway. Or with anyone else I had to have it all together, this person barely knew me it didn't matter if I had it together or not. Even the same person in a different circumstance wouldn't have got my guard down. It took basically a stranger to just ask one simple question to help me really come to grips and say everything out loud.
That was a big step. I learned it's okay to have a tender moment from time to time and to actually trust someone long enough to be open with them. That's been a new lesson for me that I probably should have learned a LONG time ago. Now the situation surrounding how I learned it, eh. It is what it is. But I learned something, so it works?
I don't want to go back to keeping everything hidden and locked up, or even be afraid to trust a friend, because, "what if they hurt me?" If they're human they will, but that doesn't mean I have to always be on guard.
AND....... because of all of that I was able to just pray for this woman. I had already dealt with those words, so it didn't catch me totally off guard.
I'm awesome. Now, please excuse the rambling. =)
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