Listen to thisWe were sitting with a friend on the morning of his father’s funeral. I had just come in to town the day before and had asked if I could see him. He and I and a few other friends arranged to meet for breakfast. It was the only time available.
It was an unusual thing “meeting for breakfast on the morning of his father’s funeral. But it was the only time we had. We met at the restaurant, ordered breakfast and sat around the table. It felt strained at times “I mean, what do you say? I struggled with the awkward feelings at times. Wanting to be “normal” in an unusual situation. So we did what people do. We made the usual comments, asked the usual questions “but the normal flow of the conversation was not there.
At times I thought it was time to go “after the silence had hung over the table for minutes (which often seemed longer) and the feeling of not knowing what to say had arisen. But then someone would say something, ask a question, make a small comment and we would stay, silent around the table, a little longer. This was the rhythm: small comments followed by seemingly long silences, another small comment, more silence. After one such pause, just when I had convinced myself it really was time to go, that maybe this had been a bad idea to meet on this particular morning when our friend had so much on his mind and so much to do, our friend spoke.
“You know, this is what has been the most help to me in getting through this,” he said. “Just sitting with friends. I want to thank you for taking the time to be here this morning. It means a lot to me that you would do this.”
The meaning of all the silence changed.
Being there.
Thom
