Being There

Where were you when 9/11 happened? What were you doing? What did you do then? Similarly, where were you when JFK was shot? How did your timeline shift under those circumstances?

When your father or a significant person in your life died, what were your immediate reactions and activities? Did you reach out to other family members? Did you jump in the car and make a hurried visit to those family members. Or if at a distance, did you grab the phone and begin making plane reservations? What about funeral arrangements? Did you have anything to do with making them? Or were you an observer, an idle participant?

This sense of ‘being there’ is an odd matter. Being present with another person when they are experiencing a personal loss, death or tragedy, challenges us to invent what to say, how to act, and to what end our presence has meaning for the other person. It is not an easy matter to deal with.

And then there is your own personal reaction to the loss event. What has this meant to you in your life? What emotional reactions were drawn from it? Were you dealing with the same emotional freight as those around you who you were aiding?

Being there. Sometimes that is just what it is. Being present and available for another person so they are not experiencing the moments alone. They have structure and support.

I remember when my dad died; it was expected at the end of a long journey. The finality, however, is something we all had to deal with. The struggle was over. His life was over. He had been asked if he wanted the family to gather (he was in Arizona and we were scattered all over the country). He said no. So we stayed put. Finally he was moved to hospice and remained for a couple of days when mom and his minister gave him permission to go. And he did; five minutes later.

And so it was. We got a call. Dad’s cremation was performed and the memorial service was planned. We made our travel arrangements and gathered in Phoenix. As we came together for a solemn occasion, we were properly somber. But then, we were remembering and laughing. At one point mom interrupted our gaiety and said dad would have loved the laughter! Then she promptly wept!!

We had been prepared for dad’s passing. It was not a surprise. How we dealt with it was personal. We each did it in our own way. But we were there for each other and for mom. Being there as a phrase took on new meaning for me at that time. It has never meant anything else since.

We were there for others when my father in law died. When aunts and uncles passed away. And friends. Lots of friends have come and gone in our long lives. Perhaps that is more surprising and shocking to us than loved ones. For what reason I cannot imagine. But the currency of our knowing the person in ways different from loved ones may hold the answer to the conundrum.

Being there also applies to situations in which you share tortured moments of someone in depression, bipolar angst or deep, deep dysfunction with the rest of the world. Knowing their condition, their mood, and just being there quietly. Maybe holding their hand. Maybe sitting quietly reading or listening to music while they vegetate through their agony. That’s being there for them. No judgment. No words of advice that are hollow and disconnected with their reality. Being there. Just sitting, passing the time. No expectations. Just a friend during a time of need, unfathomable as it may be.

One day you might remember where you were when so and so was in deep trouble. But I doubt that. It doesn’t make it any less valuable a time of sharing.

When we are called to share dark moments with others, that’s when we are called upon to just ‘be there’.

September 24, 2015