WHO IS THIS WOMAN GIVING ME A SANDWICH?
People say you can't remember most of what happens the day and week following your child's death. For some reason, I remember every detail, moment by moment. I am guessing that there are some things that happened that I don't remember, and of course then don't realize it, and maybe that is how it should be, but, my brain seems to have crystallized so many incidental moments, that I can summon the days back very easily.
For example, within hours of the police detectives leaving, my house had filled up with people. I do remember that I had several times in the first few hours, made phone calls to my family and those closest to me. But I had fixated myself onto this chair in my living room, and for that day, it seemed the world came to me, and I was watching some sort of event take place in my home which had taken on a life of its own.
Out of that entire day, the tears, the food, the cards, the messages, I remember a young woman giving me a sandwich. The reason I remember so vividly, is because I had no idea who she was and she appeared to care so much about me, and about whether or not I ate this sandwich, that I was somewhat taken aback. "Here, you should eat this sandwich"..."No thank-you"..."Yes, you have to eat this...here". And I remember looking up at her, and asking her name. She said she was Michelle's friend, which would have been great, except I wasn't sure who Michelle was.
(It turned out that Michelle was the young woman my son, Jason, had been dating recently, who wound up spending the next 48 hours at my house, to help Jason, so he could help me.)
And so the day went on, the first day without my son. So much kindness and help, so much support, and so many overwhelming moments, within such a brief period of time.
I am telling this story because...
it seems actually funny to me now;
as a way of encouraging others to remember even those first hardest days, as time allows you to;
and as a way of saying to those who are helping others get through, that anything you may do to show someone you care, is what they need.
NICE STRANGERS
Two other people I remember clearly are the manager and waitress who took care of the luncheon after the funeral. My sister had taken care of all of the planning, and everything was looking perfect.
It had been a hard morning and this particular restaurant was extremely warm with a lot of ambience, sort of comforting with wood and tapestry, sort of a medieval style.
When I had arrived at the restaurant, I headed straight for the powder room. Coming back into the restaurant, my sister approached me and said I should meet our waitress, and of course that was fine, and my brain had turned back to business mode wanting to make sure it was a pleasant lunch for the guests.
What I wasn't prepared for was that as we approached the young pretty woman who was taking care of the luncheon, she was crying so hard she could hardly speak to me! I looked at my sister, who simply said she had told her about Erik, and at that the waitress started crying harder. I have said throughout my posts that it is hard to tell how someone may feel or react in the aftermath of their loved ones suicide. At this juncture, I had, as a said, slipped into efficiency mode, and instead of thanking this young lady for her kind condolences, I simply said very sternly, "Well, are you going to be able to serve our food?" At which my sister I think started laughing a little bit, and then the girl had to smile, and after she turned to leave, my sister and I were on the verge of a full blown giggle-fit over my rudeness, which is not customary for me.
Then, just as we were composing ourselves, a man walked out of the kitchen to introduce himself as the manager, and when he realized I was Erik's mother, he started crying. This time my sister and I were half laughing but half consoling him, and then I realized that it was a kindness for these strangers to care enough about a tragic situation to shed tears. Nearly three years later, and I still remember them.
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