This is a guest post written by my husband of 30 years, Marty Werner, as he watched the events of our last three days unfold….
The call came.
“Matthew died this morning.”
My wife buckled at the knees. “What?”
It was one of my wife’s best friends on the phone– you know what I mean, a lifelong friend– the type of friend you had acne with and knew you would be friends for life—friends. Her son died so unexpectedly.
And so our journey began. The tears, the trauma, the heartache, the terror of the fragile nature of life.
We wept, we slept, we worried for his Mother.
No one prepares you for the trauma of hearing such news. How do you deal with such news? You don’t know -- but you speculate. How would it feel? What would you do? How would you cope?
Women of substance. Friends.
They circled. They prayed. They called. They talked. They cared. They cried.
Then they planned. Where to house the family? What food would the family need? What hotel rooms would be required for guests and who could stay where with friends? Veggie trays, bread, milk, children, rooms, sitters, time to talk, time to sit, time to be quiet – time to try to sleep. The calls continued into the night.
These are not minor matters. These are matters of substance, completed by women of substance. These women have raised families, dealt with untold adversity, and nurtured and loved beyond words.
To watch this dance of love by these women is to have faith in humanity. Where does the strength come from when all that seems normal is lost? To reach down into what matters and offer up human kindness. That is after all what matters in the face of such tragedy. Kindness. To feel. To want to comfort. To be with that pain and loss and not be scared.
We love so much and we lose so much. But we earn our humanity with kindness. And the women of our lives that work so hard to give us texture to our losses keep us centered on what matters.
God bless you, Matthew.