My husband was relating something from a TV show to me the other day - a young woman was very sad at the death of her grandmother, but had been unable to cry even at the funeral. It wasn't until, at the wake, someone went to eat the last piece of the last pie her grandmother would ever bake that she finally broke down.
It reminded me of a very sad exchange I had with a greiving Dad a few years ago. I lost a dear friend suddenly in February 2004, just as our eldest kids were starting year 1. In early April I got a call from her distressed husband, who up until this point had really been holding it together, staying strong for their children and her parents. I met him for a coffee so that he could talk it out. I wondered what calamatous event could have caused him to crumble like this? It turned out to be one of the saddest things I have ever heard. He was packing away the kids' summer things into the garage locker - boogie boards and fins and buckets and spades, until he got to the beach ball. He couldn't let the air out to pack it away. He said despairingly "Jaye's breath is in there. How I can let it go?" At that point we both cried our eyes out, and did feel better for it because it sparked a long converstion about all the things we loved and missed about her. The little things.
So this week I hope we can all take a moment to think on the little things that make the people in our lives special to us - their funny sayings and mannerisms, their singing voice, the way they look when they're asleep, their favourite perfume. Make sure you tell them how special they are!
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