Sometimes we're the mourner, sometimes the comforter. Sometimes a mix.
Once upon a time I was sitting in a hospital waiting room, sad and troubled.
This guy came up and said, "Hey, I don't know your situation, but I can see you're hurting.
The hurting will pass, it always does, and things will get better."
I thanked him; I knew he was right.
Another time, different waiting room. Same hospital.
My family rushed there for my brother who had fallen.
The waiting room was overpacked-it looked like over a hundred people in a space meant for a third that number.
Milling around, crying-a teen aged girl had been in a catastrophic car accident, and was near death- they were all there for her.
Later that night, I was 'not' napping on a bench-my family went home to sleep.
The crowds were gone; it would be the next day before anything would be known about the girl's
I prayed for that girl, for her family and friends. I prayed for my brother.
Someone, I think the girl's aunt, was also waiting; we got to talking, comforted each other, encouraged each other that all would be all right.
I told her that I was praying for her niece, and she appreciated that.
"And you're here for your brother? How is he doing?"
I had to shake my head-he was basically already gone.
That teen aged girl survived. There was a news article a year later about her rehabilitation, and it was
gratifying to hear that she came back from such a terrible injury.
In the past year I've known some mourning, and comforting.
One friend passed away about a month ago-today when I was calling his widow, I was startled: his
voice is still on the phone answering message. When she called me back later we could laugh about it, which is a kind of comforting. She's doing all right.
As that guy said in the waiting room, "Things will get better.".