We sat at a table outside in the shade, coffees in hand. I was only a few weeks out from Dan’s death and I was overwhelmed. A dear friend listened as I talked and cried with me as I cried.
I remember telling her my fears and how I was scared for my kids. I worried how my children would cope without their dad and what it might mean long-term to raise young children and boys coming of age with no dad in the house.
This friend knew scared. Underneath her beautiful countenance and endless energy, she fought her own battle. Her countenance wasn’t a mask. It was the result of an exchange she made every single day. Maybe all throughout the day.