Today is Memorial Day. A day for us to remember people in the military. I just listened to a Story Corps podcast in which an Army widower said that sometimes it feels like no one knows they exist. My life isn’t daily touched by people in the military but it is filled with people I admire and respect. It is filled with people who exist in vibrant useful ways.
I remember the way you held my hand and you didn’t let it go. You startled me by reaching for my hand but I willingly slipped it into yours. I was surprised how soft your skin was and how firm your grip. I expected it to be delicate and fragile. I expected to feel as if it were going to break if I weren’t careful. But that wasn’t the case.
I am fond of thinking of people like beautiful glass eggs. So fragile and deceptively pretty. But you never know what is going on inside. You don’t know what is just beneath the surface so you have to be careful. More often than I would like to admit I am too absorbed in my own concerns to be as kind as I wish I were.
In your case, I have no idea what to say. So I smile and try to not overthink it. Just showing up is what is important. It doesn’t matter that I second guess myself and trip over appropriateness. Nothing I say is going to change the facts. But by showing up, I have the opportunity to be a part of something bigger than me and to show you and anyone who is looking that I remember you and you matter. You will always be remembered.
You didn’t let go. Your firm grip a dichotomy with your tender features against the pillow. I felt such peace being with you that I could have spent the rest of the day there if you would have me. I realized it wasn’t me who was showing you that you mattered. It was, in fact, the other way around.
