I once stood in a church and said good-bye to one of the dearest friends I have ever had, or will have. I was miserable. And angry. And I looked at another friend and said, “I don’t want to be here. I just want to go home.” I couldn’t stand another second of hearing eulogies and singing songs. The thought, oh the thought, of filing out of that church and into the parish hall, where there would be platters of food and bowls of sickly sweet punch made me want to stand there and scream hateful things. Food? Are you kidding me? We’re going to eat?
Ironically, as the day progressed, eating is exactly what we did. Ironic, because my friend had a shaky relationship with food and she would have been appalled – and probably a little amused – that we all ended up at a local Mexican restaurant where we used to meet for happy hour. “I’m dead, people, and you want lunch? Do you know how many calories are in a tortilla?”
Ironic, because eating was the last thing I ever wanted to do. The thought made me angry and physically ill, and yet, somehow, sitting at that table with all of our mutual friends, picking at chips and dip, I felt a glimmer of happiness. It was dim, deeply buried and I really wasn’t ready to see it, but it glimmered all the same.
I realized, sitting there, that these people, the ones who were – and are – still here, bring me great joy. It took some time for the joy to be an unadulterated laugh-fest, complete with happy tears and aching cheeks. It was different for all of us, taking some more time than others to laugh and feel happy without being served up a side of heartache.
When my first son was born I had a moment when I thought of her and there was no heartache. It was the first time I was conscious of not feeling that sinking, sick, sad feeling. Probably I had thought of her hundreds of times without being sad, but I didn’t register those moments the way I did as I held my son. I only thought of how much she would have loved that little guy and how I felt sure that she knew all about him.
Yesterday I wrote a little piece about happiness being a choice. I believe that completely. But I know, from experience, that happiness can creep up on you without your initial consent. Over time, if you continue to let it in a little bit here and there, happiness can come back with a vengeance. And then, once it’s back, that’s when you choose to grab on with both hands.
Where I come from, that’s reason enough to go out to eat and celebrate. Anybody hungry?
This post was inspired by Momalom’s Five for Ten. This is Day 2 of Happiness.
Lapsed homemaker. Looking to hire a full-time housekeeper who will work for the sheer joy of a job well done and free coffee. Interested parties, DM please. 
Thanks for sharing Missy! Have a Happy Thursday!
Beautifully written, as tears stream down my face. Wish I lived closer, I’d hop in my car, drive straight to your house and take you out to lunch – and margaritas.
Missy, good incorporation of chips and dip. As you know from my post, knowing sadness gives birth to happiness. I am sorry for your loss, but glad that you can reflect on her life and perhaps be joyful about the moments you shared with her. You never know, she may be smiling up there, watching you eat chips and dip…
Tear. (Seriously.)
Just beautiful.
Enjoyed this…I lost my best friend (from high school on) to cancer 15 years ago. This made me think of her because many of our times were associated with food. And yes, even when the last thing we want to do is eat when we are sad, somehow food still comforts us. I am sorry you lost your friend. Thanks for sharing this lovely piece.
The last bit especially rings so true. Yes, it is a choice, but sometimes it really does find you.
Lovely!
Wept again this week. How is it her shaky realtionship with food never even made me think about how horrified she would have been although I could think of plenty of other times when we ate when I knew she would be horrified 😉 I still LOVE flour tortillas and queso anyway!
I’m guessing she is pulling the strings to torture you a little lately when you have taken everything away from that sweet firstborn of yours and he still misbehaves.
Great post! I hadn’t thought about that meal in years and how odd but good it is to gather together over food after a funeral. Maybe tortillas, queso and enchiladas are the Texas version of soul food!
P.S. I dreamt last night you came over to visit and the pool was like a swamp and you brought a red headed girl with you…what could this mean?
“Yesterday I wrote a little piece about happiness being a choice. I believe that completely. But I know, from experience, that happiness can creep up on you without your initial consent. Over time, if you continue to let it in a little bit here and there, happiness can come back with a vengeance. And then, once it’s back, that’s when you choose to grab on with both hands.”
Lovely. I can hardly comment. You’ve said it all.
Loss can be so difficult and then sometimes very invigorating. It’s one of the complexities of the human spirit, it motivates such an intense range of emotion. I believe it does bring clarity to the happiness of the here and now, and a renewed appreciation for all the little bits you speak of. If we let all those little bits add up, I think that’s the path to joy.
Loved finding you here as part of Five for Ten and look forwward to reading more!
I smiled at the thought of your food-phobic friend chastising you from the grave.
It *is* odd how there’s always food after funerals. I guess, on some level, it’s comforting.
I am so sorry for the loss of your friend. I haven’t lost a good friend yet but I’m sure it is coming.
Heading off to go read your happiness post now because I totally agree that it is a choice. I can’t wait to read it!
I love what you say here about happiness creeping up on you without your consent. And food. Yes. We are heartbroken, but we eat. We cry, but we eat. We lose, but we eat. It represents that little slice of ‘must go on’ which is always present, isn’t it?
Yes, sometimes those little glimmers of happiness do just creep up on you. I’m sorry for the loss of your friend.
What a thoughtful, well-written piece and a lovely tribute to your friend.
I love your suggestion about the way that happiness can sneak up on you, whether or not you invite it in – a really nice balance to the idea of happiness as a choice. I think I believe both, all at once.
(I know that this is a Happiness post, but it really works for Memory too, doesn’t it? I love how Courage and Happiness and Memory all intersect.)
Oh yes yes yes yes yes. I can hardly say anymore. Sound familiar? (Yeah, Jen and I think a lot alike!)
Grabbing the moments when you find yourself ready is the key to my life. I love this post. Beautiful. Thank you.
lovely post. 🙂 beautiful thoughts, thank you for sharing. oh, and thanks for stopping by my blog a while ago. i’ve enjoyed your writing so far… can’t wait for more. 🙂
I fell behind in all things internet over the weekend, so if you left a comment and didn’t hear from me, I apologize! Just want to say thanks to all who stopped by to read and comment. I appreciate your thoughtful words!
Cheers! Here is to happiness, time healing some wounds and great friends. Great post!
it’s always interesting how funerals and food go hand in hand. must be some sort of comfort thing…
“…feel happy without being served up a side of heartache.”
very descriptive and i know the feeling. i’m sorry for your friend’s passing.
How did I miss this post the first time around? Hmm. Anyway, glad I read it now. Beautiful and honest.
Great writing. Entertaining and heart felt and I 100% agree with you statement about happiness at the end. Perfect.
This was beautifully written. The last paragraph about happiness really resonates.
Oh this was lovely!!! Hi from the red dress club!
Visiting from the red dress club. I loved the part about happiness creeping up on you and then choosing to grab onto it. Really beautiful.
This is so true about life, and I think that it’s paying attention to the signs that you can welcome or resist the thing–because that thing can be happiness or sadness. Either one can creep up and stay awhile. I’m happy that for you it was happiness. Great piece! Stopping by from the Red Dress Club 🙂
I am so glad you are able to have such a positive attitude and yet such raw emotion. Thank you for sharing.
Just stopping by via TRDC. This was lovely. I think you gave all your emotions justice in a short post. It felt just long enough. And I agree with you. I think happiness *is* a choice.
I love how you say so much in such a tidy package. Yes, those feelings exist together…that’s why there is always food with a funeral. Comfort.
Very nice, thank you.
I’m sorry for your friend’s passing on.