"My friend Ty has been bumped up to hospice care in his home, is on twice the pain killers and is sleeping 20 hours a day, and he signed a DNR. I never ever want to hear about a friend that's younger than me signing a DNR again."
That was La Petite's email. Her friend is 22, a 6'4" star swimmer, friendly and all-around fun guy. He is dying of gastric cancer.
Our school counselor lost her husband Friday night. It was sudden, unexpected, and tragic.
A former colleague lost a brother recently; snowmobiling and fell through the ice. He was 29.
La Petite and her coworkers at the school paper are preparing a tribute to Ty, her friend. The young man had an early graduation ceremony last week; he is not expected to last until the actual ceremony in May.
So much tragedy; big tragedies in Haiti, smaller but significant emotional earthquakes in our circle of family and friends. What can people do? What can people say?
A long time ago, when I was young and studying piano, I was struggling to play Brahms. I could play the notes, it sounded nice, but my performance was lacking in the emotion and the intensity that gives Brahms' works their drama. My teacher stopped and thought. Then she told me:
A former colleague lost a brother recently; snowmobiling and fell through the ice. He was 29.
La Petite and her coworkers at the school paper are preparing a tribute to Ty, her friend. The young man had an early graduation ceremony last week; he is not expected to last until the actual ceremony in May.
So much tragedy; big tragedies in Haiti, smaller but significant emotional earthquakes in our circle of family and friends. What can people do? What can people say?
A long time ago, when I was young and studying piano, I was struggling to play Brahms. I could play the notes, it sounded nice, but my performance was lacking in the emotion and the intensity that gives Brahms' works their drama. My teacher stopped and thought. Then she told me:
I once had trouble playing Brahms. I couldn't express it properly, and I didn't know why. I didn't know what was missing. I never knew what to say at funerals, either.
Then my husband died. And I realized what I had never known; that there is nothing anyone can say at funerals that will truly ease the pain. All you can do is be there; and being there is the most important thing of all.
And then, then I could play Brahms.
Well, it kind of put me off to Brahms at first. I stuck to Debussy and Chopin for a long time. But I know now; even if there is nothing to say, no way to help the grieving, it's important to be there.
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