A Holy Week

Watching Notre Dame burning yesterday was quite unsettling and sad. As I watched the spire collapse, my thoughts went to China where they toppled crosses. Tears began to stream. Easter is about death and Rising. Easter is about Jesus. Easter is about God. Easter is about all of us. It is ironic that yesterday I travelled to a small town to go to a funeral of a man who died much too young. It was sad to see his parents suffering. I know as a therapist that nothing is worse than losing a child. The funeral was also a celebration of his life. I saw another aspect of this man. We only know fragments of people. In couple therapy spouses are often surprised to discover feelings that the other has harboured and suffered in silence. Couples married for decades look at their spouse in shock and silence, as I ask, “Did you know how s/he felt?” Sometimes, therapy is too difficult especially for those not ready to face themselves and their position is their relationship. They are not ready to make changes. Their relationship continues in silent suffering and that will continue until one has had enough or not. Others are ready to make changes, to compromise. Even families have notions of each other as is seen from their perspective only. It reminds me of when people read the first book I wrote. I was so amazed at how people reacted to a book, I only wrote for fun. It was meant to be light and funny and boy did I get that reaction from many, but certainly not all. I had not prepared for the hostility. People read from their own experiences, from their own perspectives, discovered from their own lives. The little town I attended yesterday, I had been to many years ago when a childhood friend of mine moved there. The childhood friend moved again to another town with her family. Time there seemed to stand still. I had left Toronto early wanting to miss the rush hour. I arrived early and went to the first coffee shop after the funeral home. It was across the street from the Police Station whose grand size surprised me. It seemed too big for the town, a grand man. What I liked about the area is that it maintained its home town feel. While driving to the town, I passed other towns which became swallowed by mega homes and city type coffee shops. People want to move to the country but bring the city with them. I wanted a breakfast of eggs, toast etc which boasted special rates for students, however it was closed. The next door restaurant was closed too. So, I walked across the street to another old building and though they didn’t have scones, they had biscuits. So, I ordered one heated with butter and a coffee. It was refreshing not being asked what specific coffee I wanted. I am tired of paying small fortunes for coffees with European names, that are tasteless. I was provided with a wonderful black cup of coffee which is exactly what I wanted. It was rich and hot - just right. I saw a middle aged woman with bright pink hair by the window who would look more at home in Toronto. Here she looked out of place in a place where time stood still. However, she and everyone else here had a sweet temperament. I was the odd one here, slightly overdressed and formal in my demeanour. I had a purpose while those around me were enjoying the moment, as people should. I enjoyed my time watching my surroundings and though tempted to buy one of the many original cups I saw around me, I did not, knowing I have so many at home. I left and returned to my car enjoying the relaxed feel of the town. I drove to the funeral home and managed to get the last parking space. Space was extremely limited. The building was quaint and the greeters were all friendly and wholesome. The service was one of the best I have ever been at. The minister, a woman, provided an excellent Eulogy and two good friends of the deceased talked about his life. I had not known those parts of his life. I began to learn of a person from my own impressions which was far removed. I didn’t know this person was raised on a farm or that he had managed to retain all those close friendships. I also did not know that he had suffered so much. Suffering too is a part of life which is so difficult. I left after greeting previous colleagues. There was supposed to be refreshments which we were encouraged to go to but it was at a church and at this point many of who I had talked to and myself did not want to travel to another area, so we went home, mine being Toronto. It is difficult to say goodbye permanently. Next month I will be attending a grief seminar about children who grieve. That should be interesting as it will be new for me. I have much experience and studies about grief but not specifically for children alone. I shall look forward to this, since most of what I hear is just refresher which can become tedious. Driving home from this little town and returning to a congested city with people racing to their respective places like no tomorrow was rather disenchanting. Being greeting by my tiny family was warm and inviting. Turning on the news and watching my cathedral burn was solemn. I had visited this most beautiful cathedral. It had been breathtaking. It was the death of a life, that effects the world. So, my day yesterday was a day of death, but it was also a day of celebration. We celebrate life of all that connects us in some way. Happy Easter.