I spent several days in the San Antonio area. Bob has a half-sister there that he had not seen since he was ten years old. Our plan was for him to be on this trip, but it was not meant to be. He didn’t get to reunite with her. I was determined to meet her.
She and Bob shared a father. He was two when his parents split up. When he was young, Bob spent the summers with his father and his family. His dad had remarried and had two more children with his second wife. At some point, at the age of around ten, Bob stopped going to visit. In addition to not seeing his half-brother and sister since that time, he didn’t see his dad again. He didn’t know why. Nobody in his family talked about it.
The first thing that struck me when I met his sister was not just how much she looked like Bob, but also how much her energy was like his: her sensitivity, her propensity to tear up easily, her soft, quiet demeanor, her warmth, her adventurous spirit, her zest for life, her willingness to love you quickly. My friend Christine, who was with me when I met her, said they both had the same twinkle in their eye.
I asked her questions. Why did you all lose contact with Bob? She said her family didn’t talk about it. She wanted to know all about him. I shared stories about him, trying to bring him alive for her. It was an emotional experience for both of us. It’s hard to explain how strange and wonderful it was. We cried and we laughed and we cried some more.
Here’s the thing that really got me. She said that she felt like she had been robbed; that the opportunity to have this brother had been taken from her. I know that Bob felt that way as well. I could tell there was an hole in his heart for the family that was his, but also wasn’t.
So much grief; my constant companion. And also so much joy. When I allow the grief, it opens my heart and let’s the joy in. It might sound like a roller coaster, but really it isn’t. It is a river flowing, so natural. I see how much allowing the grief frees me to experience all the wonder of this strange human life.
I met a man at one of our stops. He told me that his wife passed away three years ago. I told him about Bob. I said it was hard and that I felt for him. He confided in me that he was having a very difficult time. He compared himself to me: “You look like you’re doing so much better than me and it’s been so much longer for me.” I told him there is no timeline, there is no end to this thing called grief. It comes and it goes, because we love. Connecting in our grief was so, well, connecting. It made me wonder what the world would be like if we could connect to the grief of everyone we come across. If we actual understood the deep sadness we all share.
Sending so much love.
One Response
What a beautiful meeting ❤️ to be able to share about Bob and make this special day happen! Connecting parts of his past, to your present and to share in missing him. He was surely looking down with a smile and twinkle in his eye!