The unfixable

How hard it is to sit and watch a loved one suffer.

In the unenviable position of having a dead kid, it turns out there are all these other, secondary and tertiary losses and pains. Some are more obvious, like I don't get to watch my kid open presents this Christmas, and one hundred million other similar scenarios that I guarantee you can construct in your head without me. Another one of them is watching people I love try (or sometimes not) with various levels of success to comfort me. I hate that we even have to have that interaction, that we even find ourselves and our friendship in this place. No matter how well or how poorly it goes, no matter how unresponsive or bratty I seem, thank you for being brave enough to try. Thank you for being brave enough to say Eli's name. Thank you for risking awkwardness and pain to reach into my pain.

(BTW- there is a level of awkwardness at least 95% of the time when someone talks to me about Eli. So don't feel bad. Thanks death, for being so awkward.)

I am sorry if/when I don't respond appropriately to your engaging me. I have no idea what I'm doing, either. But I can promise that even if I'm distant/bratty/awkward/whatever, I appreciate your effort, your intention, your kindness. Thank you for thinking of me and for remembering Eli.

Remembering Eli is the very best thing anyone can do for me. You wouldn't believe how a quick "Thinking about you right now" text or a note "Saw _________ today and it made me think of Eli" can keep me going just a little bit longer.

Recently a dear friend of mine had a bit of a crisis within her family. I would probably commit a crime for this friend, my love is so fierce. (I am terrible at breaking the rules, so I hope she doesn't ask. We'd never get away with it.) I felt real pain for her, and I had extra anxiety just for her. ;) When things somewhat resolved, at least for the time being, I realized I had been almost holding my breath for her for over a week.

Believe it or not, during this time all I wanted was to fix things for my friend. Me, the one who is intimately acquainted with the understanding that many problems cannot be fixed (and no one really wants their problems fixed anyway). I just wanted to fix it. Because I love my friend.

The truth is, if *I* of all people could have fixed things for my friend, she never would have experienced that situation to begin with. What I mean is, if SHE and her family couldn't fix it, what in the world would MY 'fixing' do? How could I possibly make it better? More than likely, it would hurt her, or show her that I couldn't handle her pain.

But that human urge we have to 'fix' things when we see suffering, that is strong, huh? I think that surprised me more than anything. That it was so strong, I had to continuously redirect myself in order to love my friend better. Me, who knows exactly what it's like when someone wants to fix this unfixable thing.

I don't know that I did a good job. I checked in with her daily-ish. Together with another friend, we reached out to a friend who was more of an expert with that pain. Kind of a, "We love you and have never lived your pain, but here is a trustworthy friend who has." I didn't judge any decision that she made or give her any guidance ( I hope. I tried not to). One day when she was feeling overwhelmed and said she had to do something later, I offered to do it for her immediately. That seemed to help.

All the things that I did (or didn't do) for my friend were a reflection of the things that people have done and are doing for me. Sitting in someone's pain with them and not trying to make it better is maybe one of the hardest things to do. But it's also one of the most important.