The Kindness of Being There

"The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief or bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing ... not healing, not curing ... that is a friend who cares."
― Henry Nouwen

Yesterday morning, I watched as three friends gathered for another friend's Memorial Mass.  All women in their late 50s-early 60s, they each arrived separately at the church, the first making room for the second in the pew, and then the other two making more room when the third arrived.  There were no words spoken as they stood side by side -- together.  They were there for their friend who had passed, but they also were there for each other.  It made me think of the kindness of being there.

I still remember the people who showed up when my grandmother, father and stepfather died, even though it was more than 10 years ago.  I even remember moments from my grandfather's funeral more than 30 years ago.

There are moments in life that are especially hard, like funerals.  There are the happy rites of passage -- births, weddings, birthdays ...  And then there are the other moments, not headline grabbing, but significant:  a ride to the airport to pick up a baby from China, the visit to the divorce lawyer's office, your child in the hospital, the doctor's appointment that is scary ...  Moments that matter.  And moments when being there is a very appreciated kindness.

Being there connects us to each other.  It says quietly that we care -- even though there may be nothing that we can do to make a situation better.  Sometimes being there involves helping in a concrete way.  Sometimes it may be a card or a note that we send.  Or a text message or an e-mail.  It can be Facetime-ing or Skype-ing from a world away.  Or it may just be the simple and yet very meaningful gift of presence.  Being there says, "you matter to me."  And it is a kindness that stays with us.