Whether it be during happy or sad situations, friends can always be a rich source of inspiration. At most times, they do not even need to be present. During times of grief for example, just remembering what a friend had confided to you long ago can help ease the pain a bit so you are able to continue on. In turn, when the time comes, you can pass on that precious piece of advice or in some cases, words of condolement to someone when the time comes.
Just very recently, the father of my partner’s friend and colleague passed away after a lingering sickness. Clearly, the emotions of loss, regret and anguish still lingered, fresh and painful. Out from my own personal experiences of countless losses (of grandparents, uncles and aunts, siblings, our own parents and relatives), there naturally rose to the surface unforgettable words of comfort I have received from friends in the past. The essence of these words that had lifted me from my grief long ago, I am now owned while I comforted my friend.
It goes without saying oftentimes, while we condole with those we know, we too unwillingly return to those moments of sadness we experienced along ago. And for this to happen during this yuletide season, which is ironically the season of joy and cheer, makes such reminiscences all the more sad and depressing at worst.
I vividly remember the death of my uncle at the hospital on the 24th of December many years ago. At his wake the following day, all I could recall was how grey it was; while cheer seemed to be everywhere, in our tiny patch of earth, not even a smile left our lips. Soothing words from everyone got us through. As it happens, December 25 too is the birthday of our brother and eldest sibling. When he left us three years ago, it cast a shadow over the Christmases thereafter. Finally, two lasting separate images of our departed mother and father, also at some Christmas eve.
One early Christmas morning during my grader years, while still dark, I woke up to see my mother, her beautiful face only illuminated by the warm light of a lamp, sewing my younger brother’s shirt. So he’d look at his best when we go to church that morning. Then fast forward many more Christmas Days later, my family and I had arrived very early to visit my father in the old house. It was a rainy Christmas morning then and I remember we both had warm jackets on while I sat quietly beside him. With all the house still silent as we were, dampened by gloomy weather, that quiet moment we shared together will be with me for a long time.
Lasting kind words from people all we know, forever-etched memories of faces of whom we hold dear, and a fervent hope that all will be well in the end. All these make up the brew that heals, to last us for many years to come.
