An elegant presence in a dark suit with tie neatly knotted, he reclined with eyes closed, hands clasped. His face was still boyishly handsome at 57 under the sweep of silver hair. My father rested in his open casket, and as I stood alone in the funeral home room, I at last understood the cliché of the crushing weight of grief.
Moments later face after friendly face poured into the room, smiling encouragingly at me, touching my arm, murmuring words of support, sharing memories. Physically I felt as if I had been lying, flattened by sorrow, on a bedsheet, and all the friends and relatives around me had grabbed the edges and lifted me up. As the days and weeks passed, members of my healing human network—at home, at holiday gatherings, during the commute, at work, at the gym—bolstered my spirits.
Keep It Together - How friends and family make your mind strong.