Accepting love

One of the sweet events of Sandy's last weeks was Randell's
visit. They'd been incredibly close for years, and then drifted
apart. Sandy missed Randell terribly, talked about her frequently,
and longed for a reunion she didn't think was possible. But
Randell came and spent an evening with Sandy here at the
house on the 5th; she was loving and generous, and it was
clear that their connection remained real and strong.

I spent a lot of time yesterday thinking about friendship. Sandy did an amazing job of summoning people to her as she was dying. I admired her clarity in knowing who was important to her, and her courage in reaching out to them. That courage was rewarded with the tremendous support she received, the constant flow of people connecting with her one last time before she died.

Many times in the last year, I've wondered who I would call to my side. Would I, too, have clarity? And if so, would I have the courage to ask them to come? And would they come?

The underlying questions here: Am I loved? Am I important? Can I believe that I am loved and important?

Pondering this inevitably leads me to think about how we live our lives. If I'm important enough to someone for them to come visit when I'm dying, can I reach out to them now, while I'm healthy? Why do I hesitate to reconnect with old friends? Why do I assume I'm a nuisance or a drag, when I welcome their presence in my life?

I'm insecure, but I don't think my insecurities are unique. Sandy was loved by hundreds, maybe thousands, of people. That was always obvious to me, but she couldn't see it. She spent so much of her life feeling unworthy of the love and attention she craved, and unable to soak it in when it surrounded her. But in her last few weeks, she both let herself be vulnerable enough to ask for what she wanted and internalized all the goodness that flowed her direction. I am so grateful that she had the opportunity to absorb the love that was rightfully hers, and I wish she'd been able to do that for the 50 years prior.

Sandy taught me much in the time we had together, and I've continued to learn from her dying process and from her death. With Sandy, I felt loved and adored. Without her, I need to overcome my self-doubts to accept the love that friends and family have to offer. I don't want to wait to internalize that; I want it to feed and reassure me now. That's much easier said than done, but I guess that's true of most things that are worth doing.