Last week, prior to Thanksgiving, it felt like every conversation I had ended in tears. Ironically, or not ironically, it seems like every Holiday season is "celebrated" with crying and the tenderest of feelings. To be perfectly honest, ever since March of 2009, when my dad died, every Christmas song I listen to bears many signs of melancholy and celebrations of what used to be.
My mom, and the block of widows and widowers that I live on have all been especially weepy as of late. It seems like TRAGEDY is abounding. Tragedy that happened 19 years ago, 2 years ago, or as fresh as last week seems to be re-lived at the slightest smell, sound, or feeling that each Holiday season brings.
A couple of weeks ago in the middle of one of these tragedies, I started to notice something about myself. As we sat and listened to a grieving man. I looked around to see our friends weeping with him. As deeply as I felt the loss, the tears would not come for me.
Then I started to put it all together after having a conversation with my sister Susan. But I must back up for a minute and give you a little background.....
Kristine, the 2nd oldest sister in my family, had a tragedy of her own last week. Without going into any details, she had an encounter with the death of a neighbor. It was not violent, or gruesome, but terrifying to her and to her astonishment (not ours), her reaction was completely hysterical.
I called Susan, our youngest sister to recount the news of the day, and I caught her right in the middle of a conversation she was having with her husband Bryce, "Bryce and I were just discussing how each of the sisters would have reacted if they had been in Kristine's shoes this week."
Vainly, the first question I asked was, "Well, what does he think I would have done?"
"Bryce said you would have started to cry, but I told him he was wrong. I know exactly what you would have done...you would have started bossing people around and making a list of things that had to get done for the funeral......"
I had no rebuttal. She knew me too well.
Elder Ashton once said, that the GIFT TO WEEP was a SPIRITUAL GIFT.
Do not get me wrong, I am not covetting. I know that I was blessed with the gift to organize and work, in large part because of my parents, and I will use it until the day I day. I can whip together a to-do list and organize a luncheon in the drop of a hat. For that I am grateful.
But today I am also grateful for all those who can sit still long enough to simply weep. To mourn with those that mourn, and comfort those who stand in need of comfort in a very personal way.
