Saturday, June 12, 2010

The Sweetness of Friendship

I could tell you a dozen sweet stories about the people who have saved me throughout this very trying week and the reality, slowly setting in, that Max will not be physically near us anymore: S & K have brought us banana bread and taken care of our kids and laughed with us and reminded us that we are still standing up, despite everything; N has picked up my kids and weathered the nasty prods for salacious People Magazine details from busybodies (she had my back) and arranged a spur-of-the-moment breakfast with girlfriends to cheer me up; D offered to bring dinner over; L offered to babysit; B counseled me on Jewish funeral traditions; J texted me daily to remind me that I was not alone and took a few hours off work to attend the service and give me a big hug; my other J, gone for the week, checked in regularly via texting from Yosemite; Raf's childhood friend/spiritual sounding board flew out and was just present with us, running errands and doing what needed to be done intuitively; my mom and dad sent flowers; my sister called and cried; Max's friends texted and emailed and Facebooked, scanning photos and recording their stories of Max. A lot of people brought food. Many people came and sat with us.

Today, we went to the new house to check the mail and say hello to our contractors. After we ran our hands on the new granite and answered a few questions about the paint, I noticed a box in the entryway, addressed to Raf and me. Not remembering if I'd ordered anything for the house in the week prior to Max's death, I opened the box casually and was THRILLED to see a beautiful basket inside. The note, offering love and support from two good friends of mine - one of whom lives in the new neighborhood - accompanied gorgeous fruits and a box of chocolates. The girls and Raf and I grabbed the contents like we hadn't eaten in a week, juice dripping from our chins on the new porch, chocolate smeared at the corners of our mouths. Raf had two pears, one in each hand, each with a bite mark. It was like we couldn't get enough, finally feeling nourished again.

I hope that, when I look back on this time, I will be baffled by the strange mix in my memory of sadness with the taste of ripe nectarines and dark chocolate truffles.

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