Member-only story
I Lost My Sweet Friend
The complex grief in losing people twice
We are leaving my Aunt and Uncle’s house. Technically, they are my husband’s but I have claimed them as my own, as they have me. Each time I see them, a little bit of my mom lives between us. There is a familiarity to the way they love.
My youngest son nestles into the backseat of the car and waves.
“Boy,” his little voice says. “Aunt Rita sure does get happy when she sees us.”
“That’s the look of love,” I say.
My mom couldn’t hide this look. Each of her five children eliciting it with an overt or covert glance. It was an irrepressible light upon her entire face and being.
There are those who will say they love you and then there are those who will make you feel loved. Those people are a gift.
They make it clear you are a joy, not an obligation in their world.
That being with you is the best place to be.
Over the years, I would visit a friend of mine. Each time I graced the doorstep he wouldn’t walk, he would run towards me. He met me with the enthusiasm reserved for those non-obligatory people in our lives.
As my face met him, there was no denying my own family’s familiar signature.
