The year my father died, I learned about friendship.
Sure, I had friendships before. I’ve had some great friends, and still do – friends I laughed with, traveled with, raised kids with. We’ve had a lot of fun. It’s so easy to maintain friendship when life is easy.
But the year my father was dying, I was not myself. Far from home and often alone, I was cranky, sad, and stressed out. Drama and disappointment seemed to follow me. I didn’t have a lot of gas in my tank to be a good friend, but I was in desperate need of friendship. I am overwhelmed – absolutely blown away – by the numerous examples of friendship that came my way at my lowest.
I’m going to write about some of these in a series of posts. It is shattering – in a good way – to remember so many acts of friendship, and it has taken me several months before I was ready to write about it. Some posts will be short and straightforward. This first one, about my girl Kalisa and her husband Fred, is a bit longer, as there were many acts rolled up into one big friendship hug.
Friendship with Kalisa is a constant.
Kalisa is my dear friend. Lots of good times with this girl.
There have been many acts of loveliness by her in the years I have known her, but this post is about how she showed up when my dad died.
Dad died.
My dad died of Alzheimer’s in May 2022. He was a good man. (Enough said about that for now.)
When he died, in addition to falling into a pool of grief, I was thrown into the millions of things that have to be taken care of following death: notifying family and friends, writing the eulogy, visitation plans, funeral arrangements, pre-funeral lunch for out-of-town guests, a post-funeral reception, etc. I had my hands full, and was not at my best.
Here’s what Kalisa and her husband Fred did.
They travelled.
Even though they live 100 miles away, they came to my parents’ small town and stayed two nights. If that’s the whole of what they had done, that in itself is a lot, a disruption and a hassle. And it was just to take care of me.
They came the day before the funeral.
They came for the visitation at the funeral home, and greeted every visitor and family member as if it absolutely was the highlight of the day to meet that person. Here’s a screen shot of our texts from that day:
After the visitation, we walked into the house drained and exhausted from being at the funeral home for a few hours. Kalisa and my brother’s awesome girlfriend Judy had set the table (including having to move a desk and turn it into a makeshift table extension), chilled the wine, and prepared a wonderful dinner for twelve of us.. Vito and I could have (and would have) eaten a dreary thrown-together meal alone, but instead it was a night of laughter and remembrance in a room full of loved ones. After we ate, Kalisa and Judy cleaned up everything and put leftovers into containers for later.
That night Kalisa listened to me practice my eulogy. Again. And again. And again. And then she sent that text above telling me it was absolutely perfect.
They stayed the day of the funeral.
Kalisa and Fred came to the lunch at the Methodist Church that the fine ladies of the congregation put together for out-of-town guests, and of course were at the funeral. And by the way, Kalisa was dressed to the nines. That might sound small, but it showed me the reverence and specialness that she assigned to the day.
After the service, she and Fred (and again with the help of Judy) scooted out early to set up for the reception, so that I could stay at the church to say goodbye to guests. They oversaw the caterer, made sure the wine was chilled, set up chairs. They even went the extra mile by attempting to get a sedative down the throat of my overwrought dog, busy howling in the back bathroom. You know someone is a REALLY good friend when you can ask them to stick a pill down the back of a dog’s throat.
The reception lasted a few hours, and they were there for every minute, and she was quietly cleaning up and serving guests the whole time. They met close to a hundred people from my family or my parents’ lovely small town, and they listened to as many stories about my dad. Everytime I looked at Fred or Kalisa they were each genuinely smiling and laughing, and fully engaged with this wonderful group of people, most of them strangers to them before that day. I wish I had more pictures of that day (as I say, I was not at my best), but these are pictures of them with some of my fabulous cousins.
When the last guest left, we brought a bottle of wine into the living room, took off our heels, and gossiped and laughed about the guests.
And then it was over. Cousins had journeyed home, to Oklahoma City, Houston, Amarillo. Mom was tucked into her bed, exhausted. My house was cleaned up, and I had taken off my black funeral dress and put on jeans. I felt adrift. What now?
That’s when Fred and Kalisa took us to dinner. I had one cocktail, and almost fell asleep with my head on the table. But it was exactly what I needed – a quiet dinner with just us four.
And in summary. . .
Kalisa and Fred showed up. They took care of details. Kalisa cooked and cleaned. Fred sedated my dog. They met friends and family. They loved on me. And they did it with real joy and genuine generosity.
They knew what I needed even when I didn’t. And they took care of it.
This is the measure of friendship.
Want more about friendship? Please see:
