Sometimes it’s really hard to know what to say to people who are grieving. I still struggle, even though I’ve been on the receiving end of it.

But I was remembering something, recently, and it reminded me of something anyone can do.

The day my Mom died, after my sister and I were released from the hospital, we went back to the Miller’s house and pulled all the furniture together and spent the rest of the afternoon sitting like that. We sat there until we all went together to pick up my brother Marcel and his new wife Krista from the airport.

I remember my cousin Ellis coming. If my memory holds up, he was traveling in for the wedding and hadn’t heard anything until he was greeted at the airport by a stranger and informed about what had happened.

Others came and went spending hours trying to find things lost at the accident site or making meals or helping pick up the slack for the wedding still happening in four days and the funeral in three. The generosity and kindness of strangers still blows my mind six years later.

But one man sticks out in my memory. I can’t remember exactly who he was let alone recall his name. He came into Miller’s house and sat down on the couch in our little circle. I was a little afraid at first that I’d have to think of something to say. It’s funny how much work it is to respond to simple gestures of love and kindness during times of mourning.

But this man was different. Continue reading →