Showing friendship

Over the past few months I’ve learned a lot about friendship.  About who my friends are, the various ways in which friendship can be shown, and how sometimes it’s the small things carried out with thought, and the most unexpected people, that can mean the most.

I’ve also realised what a terrible friend I’ve been over the years.  Such gestures of goodwill that came flooding in in the days after my husband died – friends arriving daily with casserole dishes of nourishing stews, home baked cakes, bread fresh out of the oven — were so welcome in that time of turmoil when you can’t think about food yet there are people to feed, when visitors arrive hourly to support and chat and discuss over tea and cake but there’s no time to stock up at the shops, and when there’s a simple comfort in just being surrounded by lovely food.  Each arrival showed such compassion that I was immensely touched –  and put to shame because I confess that I’ve never done that for a friend in a similar circumstance.

I’ve made the usual offers of help in a card – ‘Just let me know if I can do anything’ – and of course I would have helped had I been asked, but I’ve never just thought for myself what might be needed, and then provided it. I suppose I’ve always stood back, slightly afraid to push my way into someone else’s life. What I’ve discovered thought, is that in difficult times, especially when you’re in shock, you usually have absolutely no idea what you need, and you’re desperately grateful for someone tuning up at your door with a vegan lasagne that you can quickly heat up and serve for dinner without any further thought, and that works for everyone who might be in the house at the time, regardless of their dietary preferences.

Outside of the food, one gesture stood out for me. Within minutes of hearing that my husband had died, my niece — who lives 500 miles away  – had booked a flight and was by my side within hours.  This was all the more remarkable when you consider it was almost midnight when I called her and she had to work out the best route to an unfamiliar part of the country, make all the arrangements for travel and her family, and then get to me.  I’ll never forget that, how grateful I was to her, and that she just did it without being asked!  I’d have mulled over whether I should go or not for days!

Almost the antithesis of this was a chance meeting I had with a friend of my husband’s a couple of months after he died.  She’d know all about his death, had visited at the time, attended the funeral and we’d parted with her saying: ‘We’ll meet up for coffee soon.’  Four months later I saw her as I was running for the train and she looked slightly sheepish as she apologised for not contacting me sooner saying: ‘Life’s just been so chaotic’.  What does she think my life’s been like!!!

Far from sitting by my mobile waiting for her text, I’ve been getting on with the business of coming to terms with the fact that my life’s been turned upside down,  I no longer have a husband, instead of a future full of promise and happy things I’m facing a blank wall, and doing the odd bit of sobbing.  What I wanted to say to her was ‘Actually I’ve been too busy to remember you mentioned coffee’, but I was brought up better than that and my mother would have been horrified if I’d uttered those words, so instead I suggested a date when we could meet for that coffee.

While I was stewing over this, a sympathy card arrived from an old friend I haven’t seen in 30 years and who I usually only keep in contact with via Christmas card.  She’d written about 200 words, the first 100 of which were apologising for not writing sooner because she’d been so busy with holidays, family issues, and buying a new house.  Only then did she say how sorry she was to hear about my husband.  It actually made me laugh out loud.

On one hand, you might say, at least she took the trouble to write, and that’s true, and it’s more than I’ve done on occasion.  But what I’ve learned is that in a difficult time, an act that’s useful, well-timed, and thoughtfully conceived will usually be well received even if not requested.  A sympathy card doesn’t have to be a work of prosaic art, or even have both sides and the back filled with writing. It just has to be a simple message of sympathy sent with thought and friendship. And if you have delayed in contacting the person, just say you’re sorry  – no explanation needed. 

I’m sure I won’t always get it right, but in future I’ll know how to try.

MY NICE THING FOR FEBRUARY

For weeks I’d been planning a weekend trip to visit my youngest daughter who’s at university in Cornwall. All was going well and we were enjoying our time together when Storm Ciara blew into town and I had to leave early to stand any chance of getting home in one piece.  I was devastated, and now very wary of ever visiting that part of the world again because I seem to have such bad luck every time I go. On my first trip 18 months ago, I was stuck alone on the hard shoulder of the M4 for an hour waiting for the AA to come and help me with a burst tyre; nine months ago on a visit I was involved in an accident so serious that my car was written off; and then six months go my husband died there. Cornwall, I get the message! But before Ciara whipped up her mischief my daughter and I were having a lovely time, the highlight of which was a visit to Charlotte’s Tea House in Truro.  The scones are sublime.