Thoughts on Grief and Comfort

Nicole moved into my school and church in sixth grade. I had never seen anyone like her. She was at least a foot taller than me and stood near six feet tall. She looked years older than the rest of us small students, yet she was only 12 years old and indeed in sixth grade. Nicole was shy and quiet but nice. I didn't have much in common with her beyond attending the same church with her, but the experience with her family that coming year would help me know her more.

My mother was her mom's visiting teacher. Each month my mom went and visited her mother. Nicole's mom always seemed tired and sick. She had advanced breast cancer. We soon were making visits to their home on a weekly basis and Nicole and her sisters often came over to my house after school. I tried hard to find common interests with her, but we never got further than playing with dolls or riding bikes. Nicole was rather quiet.

The day came when her mother passed away. It was on a Saturday during autumn. My mom asked me to come with her to the house to help comfort Nicole. I was scared to death. I never had never known anyone that had passed away before. I felt too small and inadequate to provide any comfort at all that could replace even an ounce of the grief Nicole and her family were experiencing. I prayed to God in earnest to help me know what to do and say.

We entered their tiny military house that was filled with snuffles and sobs. Nicole's blonde hair was streaked wet with her tears. I hugged her but froze with not knowing what to do or say. The room was crowded with family and friends. We needed to do something. We went outside and I saw some bikes in the carport. I asked her if she wanted to ride bikes and she nodded yes. Then we saw Chris from school riding his bike around the neighborhood. He seemed aware of the passing of Nicole's mom and wanted to do something for her, too. So we rode bikes. We didn't talk. We just rode and rode and rode. We rode on the grounds of an abandoned school house. We rode through the crunching leaves. We rode fast and we rode together. We cycled until we were too tired and thirsty and finally returned home after a few hours.

My son Trent is 12 and is on his second round of comforting his older cousin who is grieving the loss of his brother to suicide yesterday (he lost his mother to cancer 5 years ago). Nathan is the one who discovered his brother. It was awful. He is staying with us and my poor son doesn't know what to say. But I don't think he needs to say anything. He just needs to be by his side. When Nathan came over they hugged and then went upstairs and played with Hot Wheels. Then they watched a movie. Now they are playing video games and watching another movie. That is enough. Moment by moment they are comforting one another by grieving side by side.