Showing Up

Connie Schultz writes a column for Parade called Life in the Middle Ages. Her September 6 column is about showing up, even when it’s uncomfortable.

When people are dying, when people have died, we tend to not really know what to do, and often do nothing because it’s so hard to get in the middle of suffering.

I’m one of those that never handled death well. I’ll never forget an older roommate I once had convincing me to go to a funeral with her. I’d never met the deceased or any of her loved ones, yet I stood in that cemetery and blubbered - so much so that strangers were coming to me, offering hugs, and saying things like “Oh honey, you two must have been very close.”

The thing is, once we reach a certain age, we lose friends and family more often, and because of our own losses, tend to better understand the importance of showing up.

I still stink at it. I still much prefer to visit before a funeral. And I like to think that counts too. 

Connie's piece is excellent, so read it, and instead of repeating her sentiments, I'll just share one of my favorite memories about showing up.

My father was always very picky about his lawn, and due to his efforts it always looked like a well-maintained park. When his first round of cancer and chemo struck, he became too ill to mow.

One day I was visiting, and saw a truck stop in front of the house. It was Dad’s friend Bob, from work.

Bob didn’t come to the door. He unloaded a mower and cut the grass. Then he loaded up the mower, got a weed trimmer from the truck bed, and finished the job he came to do. Then he climbed into his truck and left.

I don't remember whether Bob attended Dad's funeral years later, but I'll never forget him showing up to mow the lawn.

What about you? What is your favorite memory of someone showing up?