HELLO!

Yesterday I heard from an old friend with sad news, his wife had died. My heart broke for him, they were a couple that deeply loved, valued and supported each other. His wife died after a long battle with cancer, both knew this day was coming, but it did not make it any easier. The pain of loss can be felt in the obituary he wrote about her, in his emails to those he came to know in Halifax. I offered to call, he told me he would welcome that, just not now, he was so overcome conversation was impossible. I wrote an online tribute to which he immediately responded with a heart emoji and a thank you. I share that to suggest, when you don’t know what to do or say to your grieving friend, a casserole (as I repeat often) is always welcome, but an online condolence also helps.

I met this friend when both of us were depressed and needed a companion. He showed up at the church I then served. He had left his wife and was feeling deep guilt. To make things better, he moved into a low-income neighbourhood, his rent minimal, and used the remaining sum from his salary to support his family. He needed someone to talk to.

I was depressed, and my friend quickly learned why. I had offered an analysis of my new community, hastily written, judgemental in tone, detailing all the ways I would change them, leveraging my honeymoon period with them to do this. I also compared myself with my predecessor in unkind and arrogant ways. The community received this awareness with predictable anger, hurt and vengeance. Kim and I had just returned from China, I was a new father, no sleep and dealing with the first major conflict in my life (or since). I remember a colleague telling me, “Kevin, I have never met a minister who got through 30+ years of ministry with only one conflict, but oh, what a conflict!” I did recover, but it changed me forever. I tell people I am not a better or worse person, I am a different person, more grounded but also less eager to make friends.

I mentioned my friend chose to live in a low-income neighbourhood. The diner where we met every Saturday morning was located next to a strip club. Around us, in all the booths were performers dressed in their sweats and hoodies, discussing the night before. We stood out as two 40 something men, talking about our depression. It was a surreal experience.

Eventually my friend would move to Halifax (new scenery, new life) meet a new wife, settle down (he worked for the federal government, and received a transfer). I introduced him to some of my friends. He attended a south end United Church and was married at Thackeray's. But when they both retired, he returned to his hometown, a new adventure for her. And there they become rooted in community and mutual lasting love.

There are these moments, these relationships, that pop up in our lives, where strangers become friends, where conversations have a lasting effect on the rest of our lives. This relationship will always speak to me. And my friend’s beloved wife will remain with him forever. Peace, Kevin