Tag Archive for: Friendship

Cheryl's Blog

This is what we come here for

On September 1st, I lost my friend, Melissa, to a long-term illness. She was only 59. Once again, Michael and I have been placed into the familiar crucible of grief, mourning the end of our twenty-year friendship. Some of you may have met Melissa when she traveled with me to Miraval retreats in Tucson, AZ, to Omega in Rhinebeck, NY, and on a few Hay House cruises long ago. She was the woman with a camera at the ready, always searching for something beautiful to photograph.

Today, while walking in the backyard, I thought of Melissa when I found a kaleidoscope of Monarchs feasting on the tiny cone-shaped flowers of a butterfly bush. She would have loved this, I thought as I stood watching their wings open and close to an invisible rhythm.

Melissa and I shared a deep love of nature. Whenever I see wild animals – deer, foxes, or soaring red-tailed hawks – I think of her. The sightings spark an urge to text her photos to share my “find of the day,” something we both loved to do. This morning, when I saw the flowers flush with Monarchs, my chest tightened. I’ll miss swapping our latest discoveries and the audio messages of birdsong she often sent from her yard – hooting owls, the loud tea-kettle yell of a Carolina Wren, and her favorite: the wood thrush with its bright, multi-pitched trill. Melissa called it her xylophone bird.

Grief is a constant reminder of how we orient our lives around the people we love. When I think of the holidays, I think of my friend Ileen whose excitement for Christmas and Hanukkah began building in September (she was Jewish and celebrated Christmas, too). When I close down the garden, I think of my father-in-law, Curt, who shared my sadness at saying goodbye to the planting season and who reminded me to take heart because the seed catalogs would be coming soon. These associations are like invitations to let the pain in, to welcome the memories, sadness and all, and to honor the love we shared while we were here together.

Losing so many loved ones in a short amount of time is teaching me to make friends with grief. I’m less afraid of pain. I yield to unexpected tears. And I’m learning to welcome sorrow, knowing that it will pass through me if I receive it with respect and open arms.

As I stood staring at the Monarchs, thinking of Melissa, I let myself be overwhelmed by the reality that she’s gone, a reality I know I’ll face again and again as I grieve. When several butterflies lifted off at once and circled overhead, I swear I heard Melissa say: “This is what we come here for: to witness the beauty of the earth. Please don’t miss it.”

In her honor, I won’t. But I will certainly miss her every single day.

Love,

Cheryl

Cheryl's Blog

Exploring Friendship in the Wisdom Years

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Resources mentioned:

Us: Getting Past You and Me to Build a More Loving Relationship by Terrence Real

The Dance of Anger: A Woman’s Guide to Changing the Patterns of Intimate Relationships by Harriet Learner

The Enneagram Institute

Cheryl's Blog

From Loneliness to Laughter

We piled into the car enjoying the last rays of sunlight before afternoon storms moved in. We were about to spend a few hours poring over clothes at a vintage clothing sale in Boston. As we turned onto the highway, we giggled like school girls as we talked about dating later in life, hiking adventures, and how happy we were to be together.

Staring out the window, I thought about the gift of friendship and how this area of my life has changed so much in the last few years.

I spent a good amount of my adult life traveling for work and as a result, most of my close pals were located in different parts of the world. When I came home and stayed put for a while, I missed them. A lot. And I felt lonely. I longed for local friends who could grab breakfast or enjoy a spontaneous walk or movie, and yet I felt too embarrassed to do anything about it. How do you make friends later in life without looking like a loser? Harsh, I know, but that’s how I felt – silly for needing friends and clueless about how to find them. That’s until I started getting emails from readers who admitted the same thing and I didn’t feel so alone.

Now, laughing with a group of women I’ve come to adore, I had one of those moments when you realize you’ve arrived at a place you weren’t quite sure you’d ever get to. And because so many of you write and ask how to make new friends later in life, I wanted to share how I got here.

I took risks. I went to places and did things that challenged me and I forced myself to talk to people in spite of the fact that I’m more of an introvert than I appear. More specifically, I engaged in activities that were of interest to me and that required regular visits. For example, I joined a small Crossfit gym and worked out three times a week. I started polar plunging with a group of thirty women every Friday and accepted invitations to plunge with smaller groups on other days as well.

As I got to know people in these places, I invited some for tea or to dinner even though I felt like an awkward teenager – vulnerable, afraid of being rejected, or nervous about what to say. And I started accepting invitations I used to decline because of the complications of living a public life. This decision rewarded me with the opportunity to meet interesting people who shared my desire to build healthy, intimate and fun relationships.

My risk-taking has paid off in more ways than I ever could have imagined. A willingness to show up in spite of how easy it is to stay home has gifted me with new friends who truly love, care for, and support one another. Turns out that if you’re willing to be the awkward teenager long enough, you may just find a great group of kids to share your life with.

There are so many people hoping to make new friends and if I could introduce you to the folks in this community I would (you’d love them!). But you need to leave your house and strike out on your own. Your group is waiting, I promise. You just need to get out there and play!

Love,

Cheryl

P.S. – Check out the audiobook/workshop called Self Care for the Wisdom Years available through Audible. You can learn more here.

 

Photo by Ben White on Unsplash