I have a friend who works at Victoria Hospice. We met shortly after I became a volunteer, so we have known each other for a good number of years. We are fond of each other, and because of the difference in age, she feels comfortable enough to refer to me as her surrogate father. I don’t let this obvious compliment go to my head because, truth be told, she happens to be the boss for one of my Hospice activities.

I met her recently at a Hospice gathering and in the course of bantering back and forth, I asked after her two boys. She responded that the younger boy was acting just like a mid-teen but that her husband was just great.

I chuckled as I remembered our lunch story. On that day, my friend was her usual perky self, but I sensed that behind the welcome hug there was something that I just couldn’t put my finger on. We ordered lunch and caught up on Hospice news.

During lunch, she became increasingly thoughtful-looking. She asked about Claire and how long we had now been married. I remember thinking that she was just making conversation, but that assumption didn’t quite explain the thoughtful looks that I was receiving.

Now, I knew that my friend loved a man and had done so for some time. While I had only met him once, I got the distinct impression that this was not a one-sided affair.

However, gentleman that I am, I said nothing to her about the relationship.

Coffee arrived, and I fielded a few more questions about where we met and how long it was before we were married. I answered these questions knowing full well that my friend already knew the details. Once again, I kept my peace, expecting that I would soon know the reason for those thoughtful looks.
About half-way through her cup of coffee, my friend finally leaned over the table and said, “Tell me, why did you and Claire decide to get married?” So much for small talk! I leaned over my side of the table and answered her question carefully, “Claire and I got married when we found out that we couldn’t stand not being married.”

I am sure you have seen that little smile that slowly replaces a thoughtful or puzzled look. Suddenly, everything becomes clear.

I am not under any illusion that I actually gave my friend permission to marry her lover. However, I am sure that what I said was something that she either wanted or needed to hear. Perhaps permission is really no more than a well-timed nudge.

This lunch nudge scenario helped me to recognize and respond to similar needs in my bereaved friends.