Emails from the Past
Today, I cleaned out some of my email inboxes. It was as if I were opening a time capsule. I suppose in some ways, I was.
Most poignant were emails from three friends, now deceased. These were difficult to delete, and in fact, I saved some of them. In these emails, I heard voices that I long to hear in person once again. Their cadence, pitch, and volume. The faces and facial expressions behind the words. The memories and lives behind all of that.
Marcy spoke of her band of allies, as she coped with cancer. Ever hopeful and spiritual, whether prayerful or cussing, she spoke truth about life with cancer, friendship, music, and love. At her funeral, they played Dancing Queen by Abba. Fitting indeed.
Rick emailed about our coffees together and his request for accountability. His words were also laced with spiritual aspirations and experience in the midst of his own health decline.
And Rog, my best friend since kindergarten. In our conversations over shared projects, I could hear his exuberance and sense of wonder. Filled with endless curiosity and fascination, we often engaged the world with a full sense of exploration. When he faltered, my communication was more supportive. When my wife fell sick, he offered support in my direction.
And then one day, the emails stopped. So too, the phone calls and lunches and coffees and golf outings. Memories have taken their place. And precious as those memories are, I miss my friends.
Yet, I am grateful for friends worth missing. I am even thankful for grief, because it reminds me to love in the here and now. And I am thankful to hear voices from the past in the form of old emails.
Perhaps you have similar time capsules awaiting you as well.
Worth Repeating
He wept, and it felt as if the tears were cleansing him, as if his body needed to empty itself.
― Lois Lowry
