Unconditionally

My dear neighbor of nearly 14 years had cancer for about four. Her insides were horrific, but she was the strongest woman on the out. It was mostly because she was so stubborn. She would never show her weaknesses, in body or mind. She made us all wear those Livestrong bracelets. When she caught me without mine, she scolded and gave me another. I never took the thing off, not for an involved workout or formal event. When I was away for New Years, I was sitting on the couch and fiddling, as I always do. The bracelet suddenly popped. I wasn't even tugging with much force, but it snapped, right between the words live and strong.

I called my Mom from the airport as I was arriving home, and she asked me to come by the antique mall where she works so she could see me. My mom is very loving and affectionate and involved, so I thought she just missed me and wanted to hear about my trip. I called her as I was approaching the parking lot, and she met me outside. "Sweetie," she said as she approached me with a pitied look and arms outstretched, "Mrs. Judy is dead."

The weird thing was that it happened on the day my bracelet went. I'm not religious- but, that gave me the biggest shiver and strangest feeling, and I wondered about whether it was a mere coincidence.

You never think about it, but parents have the most horrible, noble job of having to inform you when someone dies. There is no sadder, more difficult job than that. Even when my Grammy died, which was probably the most sobering event to happen to my mother besides the sudden death of her father, I remember her being so strong. She sat on the couch, pulled me to her, and whispered the words that Grammy was gone. "Oh, honey," she cried as I became hysterical. And it was that reaction that amazed me so and amazes me still. Despite whatever heartbreak and sorrow and devastation she was feeling, she was more worried about me and the hurt I was feeling.

When I had gotten my heart broken for the second time and called my mother crying, she ended up crying too.

"If I could take away your pain and feel it for you, I would."

What a thing to say, you know? The thing is, she really meant it. Sure, we've all had times where we felt so sad, so sorry, for a loved one or dear friend when they were going through hard stuff. But to be willing to take it and feel it in order to relieve the pain of another--that's something truly fascinating to me.