"We cannot tell the precise moment when friendship is formed. As in filling a vessel drop by drop, there is at last a drop which makes it run over; so in a series of kindnesses there is at last one which makes the heart run over." --James Boswell.
Saturday's weather calls for sunshine and 59 degrees. Saturday's entry on the calendar calls for me to attend my mother-in-law's memorial service. And Friday night's mood called for some complaining - I don't want to go to the memorial service. I have nothing to wear and I won't have anybody to talk to while I'm there.
It sounds silly and like I'm wailing about the first day of classes at a new high school or a new job, not a memorial service. Every woman is "supposed" to have a black dress or some sort of funeral-befitting ensemble in their closet. And I do have a LBD, but it has sequins on it and the only shoes that I have to wear with it are black knee-high boots and I usually pair it with "diamond" chandelier earrings and a black cocktail ring. But I'm not sure if wearing sparkles and bling to a memorial service is respectful and appropriate. This conundrum plagued me today as I dug through my closet brainstorming what I could wear and trying to find nylons that didn't have any runs or holes in them. As my options narrowed and I pulled out the black dress to iron (since it really is the best option), I reminded myself that the seats at the memorial service will be filled with many, many people that I love and I'm looking forward to seeing them. Problem solved. I do have something to wear and I will have plenty of in-laws to chat with.
But Lani was my ally at events like this. She married my father-in-law 15 years ago and I have been here for about 8 of those years. She knew the family gossip (I learned long ago that husbands are useless in that department), spoke the language, and knew where the landmines were. She was like a knowledgeable guide who didn't mind showing the ropes to the new kid. If it wasn't her memorial service and she was going to be there tomorrow, we would talk about the weather (Isn't it amazing for early March? It almost makes the rain worth it, etc) and I would tell her she looked nice, because she always did. And she would laugh and say she didn't know what to wear, but this skirt or dress or whatever is what she's worn in the past to other funerals. Then I would confess about my obsessing about my wardrobe choice and I'd ask if she thought I looked okay. And she'd tell me I looked fine and if I felt like dressing up and wearing flashy jewelry or nail polish etc, I should and nobody probably noticed or cared anyway. Then I would crack an inappropriate joke about shopping for a dress or an outfit to wear to a funeral and how tacky that seems. We'd chuckle, sip our wine, and then inevitably the conversation would disintegrate and we would drift away to find our respective spouses.
I stumbled across Mr. Boswell's accurate reflection of how and when a friendship starts sometime in high school. I frequently remembered his words in college as I met many people that stil remain friends to this day. I've thought about that quote when I started new jobs, or joined a new church or met some new faces at a dinner party and came away with new friends. I never thought about it with my relationship to my mother-in-law until we were warned in October that she did not have much time left. I don't know when the drop happened to bump us into friendship. I never dreamed that the small talk that seemed so trite and mundane would mean so much. I just know that what I thought was a whole bunch of talking about nothing turned into a something that turned into a unique friendship that will remain in my heart for the rest of my life.
Now if you'll excuse me, I have some purple glitter nail polish to apply and some boots to slip on. Sunny with a chance of bling sounds like the start to a great conversation.
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