Last week was a mother of a week. I haven’t talked about it, other than with one person on G+, but I want to talk about it a little now.
I have a buddy who I consider to be one of my best friends in the world. He went through a shock last week, and it sent him into a tailspin. It was something unexpected, but something everyone will experience at some point in their life.
When I see one of my friends going through a heartbreak, my heart shatters along with theirs. I’m sure many of you can relate. In the past, I would try whatever I could to make it all better. Of course, that is impossible, but you have a deep need to help mend their wounds when you love someone. And in the process, without meaning to, you can cause more harm than good. It took me years and a lot of trial and error to learn that lesson.
I watched the people fluttering around him for most of the week. Well-meaning folks who needed to make it all better. It wasn’t working. He was spiraling while trying to put up a brave front, and I could tell he was ready to implode. It was Friday night, and more relatives and friends were due to drop in on him throughout the weekend, so I had an idea.
Early Saturday morning, I drove over and knocked. He answered the door. He was dressed already but obviously hadn’t slept much. I told him I was kidnapping him for the weekend. He protested, but I talked him into it. We left for a day of hiking, and I thought maybe some talking. We found ourselves by one of the waterfalls in Yellowstone and sat down to look at it for a bit. And we didn’t talk at all. Not a word. For two hours we sat and watched the waterfall. Peaceful. Comforting. It was the closest I’ve ever felt to him, and it was beautiful.
After about two hours, he stretched and turned to me and said, “Thank you.” Not a casual thank you, but a deep and heartfelt thank you with relief in his voice. There was also a smile I hadn’t seen in over a week. I said, “You’re welcome, buddy,” but what I really wanted to say was thank you to him. Thank you for letting me help you through some of the pain without uttering any words or giving any advice at all. Just two friends in each other’s company, and that was all he needed.
So, if it feels like your butterflies have died, don’t be afraid to tell a friend or loved one that all you need is for them to sit silently with you for a while until the butterflies come back again. It might take a while, but the butterflies will come back.
Comments