THE VIEW FROM HERE

BY EMILY MORRISON z

jI’m Here FOR YOU

I’VE BEEN THINKING about this for a while now, wondering how truthful I want to be with you all. Then, I reminded myself “The View From Here” is really about the way I see things, and truthfully, I’m feeling sad. I’ve been to two funerals in three weeks, and I missed a third because I couldn’t emotionally handle more grief.

On top of this, my kids have been sick. My husband had a couple of scopes done (he’s fine), my daughter had an unexpected procedure (she’s fine), and I’ve injured my knee in such a way that won’t allow me to run without pain (I’m fine).

Oh, and the school year started, which is busy but also fine.

The thing is, when you’re in a poop-storm and all the crap is flying around you, inching ever closer to your face, it’s hard to find the right words. How can I write about the loss of these good people, the kids’ poor health and my bum leg and not come off like “Poor Me Peg”?

Besides, who really wants to listen to me complain, right? Don’t you have your own problems to worry about rather than reading all of mine?

Yeah, you do, but sometimes there’s solace in knowing somebody else is going through it.

Surprisingly enough, there is one thing better than knowing your misery has company — realizing that when someone else is miserable you can be there for them.

I don’t mean “be there” in the way people say it through text or on social media: “I’m here for you. Sending hugs and love.”

I mean literally being there for them, going to where they are and bringing them hugs and love. There is no substitute for really being present with someone who needs you.

How do I know this? Because I’ve been watching my mother be there for her loved ones for as long as I can remember.

Recently, before she lost her best friend of 57 years, she continued to take her out for coffee and doughnuts every week as a way to spend time with her. She brought her to get her hair done, and they drove around town until their coffee cooled. Sometimes, they’d go out to the lake and sit on the porch for a while to watch the loons, or they’d walk the camp road to stretch their legs.

The point is, Mom didn’t leave her friend hanging on empty words. She grabbed her hand and walked with her.

Likewise, when my kids were sick this past month, I knew there was no medicine for it, no special food I could make though I kept the food coming. To me, the best thing about being a mom is choosing to put your children first. Motherhood is about staying home with your kiddos when they don’t feel good and sitting on the same couch, even if all you’re doing is watching one Marvel movie after another and breathing in their sick germs.

Over and over again, I’ve seen people love hard, hug hard and yes, even pray hard. I’ve seen families unite over their seriously ill sons, mamas and grandmamas. I’ve seen towns pull together to raise money for medical procedures, cook meals and throw birthday parties. I’ve watched people rally around their own, and this selflessness has reinforced one simple truth.

What we need most in times of heartache and pain is not love in words but love in action. We need more heartfelt gestures, more hand-holding and more physical connection.

Everyday that goes by I feel so grateful for my people. The ones I love most are still with me, but I know this won’t always be the case, so I want to spend my time with them wisely: put my cellphone down and my laptop away.

Stop saying, “I’ve got to go do this or that,” and start saying, “I’ll be right there. When do you need me?”

Most of all, I want to be the kind of person who really is right there.