An Offer of Soup
A life-changing aspect of my father’s death was recognizing how I resist being taken care of.
A few days before I was to head home following my dad’s funeral, a dear friend wrote to say that she would bring soup over for the day I returned. My inner voice resisted, telling me that it was a lovely offer but unnecessary, I was able to take care of myself, having my father die was not enough to deserve someone bringing dinner over.
And then, I caught myself. Wow.
I was afraid that if I was deeply vulnerable, I wouldn’t be loved. I witnessed a long-held belief that my friends and family loved the independent, helpful me, not a vulnerable, needing, grieving me.
Keeping my hands, and heart, closed made it harder to be held.
I wrote back to my friend welcoming her offer of soup.