Curious

​It was August of 2022, and I took a hiking trip with my friend Bev.
We’ve been friends since we were in fourth grade. We both lived around the corner from each other in New York. In March of 1976, we were in eighth grade, and my dad announced we were moving to Florida. It was a sad time for me.
We have been best friends since, regardless of the miles in between.
As we approached our fortieth birthday, we decided to plan a hiking trip to Grand Tetons and Yellowstone National Park. After this trip, we decided to plan hiking trips for our decade birthdays. When we turned fifty, we went to Zion National Park. When we turned sixty, we went to Glacier National Park. While we were there, Bev shared some unsettling news with me that her mom had a nodule on her lung. I was shocked. My heart was heavy with grief as we processed together. During one of our dinners, she expressed her need to explore the whole concept of death. Alarms and whistles went off inside me, and I remember thinking, “I need to think about this and provide the answer.”.
There was a nagging feeling inside me because I felt I needed to provide an answer for her. I used my blog to write about what I would share with her. I began to write. During one of my writing sessions, something was happening inside me. I STOPPED WRITING. I paused for a long time.
I realized I had been carrying this burden as if it was mine.
As I paused, I realized I didn’t need to do anything.
I don’t recall her saying, “Sue, what are your thoughts about death?” Why did I feel this need to take this on as my quest? After pausing for several minutes, my focus began to shift. I thought about what was going on with her.
How was she dealing with this news? Was she panic-stricken or anxious? Was she angry? How did this news affect her? What did she want to know about death? Was she trying to wrap her head around the thought of losing her mom, who she is very close with? She might have been thinking about her well-being after her mom passes away someday. It could be she was trying to imagine life without her mom. What did she want to figure out? Did she want to know what happens to a person after they die? Was she wondering about her death? In those pausing moments, I realized I hadn’t taken the time to explore this with her. I was too consumed with my response. What if I had taken the time to ask those questions and listen? It might have led me to a place of understanding and the greatest treasure of all, her heart. I can’t go to Glacier National Park today, but we can start a new conversation next time we talk.
I can approach it differently and be curious. I can ask all those questions I didn’t ask last summer. I can discover how this is affecting her.
I can discover new things about her by giving her time and space.
All I need to do is LISTEN!