We Need Each Other!

One of the Couper family reunions — connecting! This time it was houseboating on the Mississippi River strongly influenced by Sabine!

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I received a thoughtful, caring note this morning from a total stranger. He wrote:

“I just read with sadness the news about your wife's passing. I wanted to send my wishes for peace and comfort in this difficult time.  We have not met, but I have been following your videos throughout the pandemic, and they have meant a great deal to me.  Thank you for your wisdom and moral courage.  Be well.”

I replied: “Thanks, John, you are kind. I think again and again, we are only here for a short while. We know that, yet we do not. One morning we wake up and realize this is over. Now the choice is before is. Do we live or not? And if we chose to live, how shall we act? Amidst this crushing loss, now 18 days into this strange territory, I am sensing her presence and my first steps toward healing. While we are separated during this pandemic, we are still connected in many powerful and emotional ways. That it what moves me slowly forward,” 

What I wrote back to him is true. It is because I am thinking about doing those short videos on life and living again. They sustained my from March until the presidential election. I will most likely sob through the first of them, but I am feeling a need to “walk and talk” again. (I hope you have been able to read the first of these blogs where I have told the story of Sabine’s death after 13 years in the cancer-struggle. I believe I have found some deep learning that will be of help to others who will, as most of us will one day, “close the eyes of their beloved”).

It got me thinking about Parker Palmer’s suggestion that we “let our lives speak.” When we speak, we teach. He writes in “Let Your Life Speak:”

“Self-care is never a selfish act - it is simply good stewardship of the only gift I have, the gift I was put on earth to offer others. Anytime we can listen to true self and give the care it requires, we do it not only for ourselves, but for the many others whose lives we touch.”

I have always thought that my blogging, whether about police, living during a pandemic, or thinking about death was my self-care. But alsoi sensed that it might help someone else as well.

I have now made a connection with each one of my eight children who, in their own ways, are also suffering. We are connecting with what we have available today— the internet and its video capabilities.

And I am finding that while we are physically separated by distance, there is still this important, life-giving and healing connection of family. (I had preached that to my congregation early in this pandemic that, though separated, we could through God’s spirt, still be connected. I think I was right in this understanding.)

The same time I feel this family connection of love, emotional support and shared grief, I feel the same buoyancy, a palatable “lifting up” from my church family and friends. Yes, we need each other — people do need people. Yes, I am in the process of healing.

If we are to thrive as human beings, we need connection. (Let me pause here to say “thank you” to all of you who have reached out to me in prayer, loving thoughts, and compassionate notes. You are helping me slowly put together a shattered heart.

But I admit that I blog (which is really electronic, open journaling) primarily for myself, for survival, for processing my life, and seeking to let it speak and be brought to full health. The last year, 2020, was a rough one; a tough and tumble year for all of us. I was often hearing Barbara Streisand sing “People” from the Broadway musical, “Funny Girl.” People really do need people!

I chose life! I chose to let my life speak; to let you know about my road forward — it may also be your path. For you, too, may have to do what I did — to close the eyes of your beloved.

I hope to be able to show a way; not the only way, but a way that seems to be work for me. It’s what I have learned so far in this mortal world.

The questions are: How now shall we proceed? How shall we act? 

Amidst my crushing loss and grief, l now 18 days into it, I sense Sabine’s presence here in this old farmstead; the home she loved for all our 40 years together. Through it and the power of place, I take my first steps forward. 

While we all experience separation, even loneliness, and even depression, during this pandemic, we can still connect. That feeling of connection is what moves me down the road.

I believe this is true, because I am thinking about doing those short videos on life and living again. I will most likely sob through the first of them, but I am feeling a need to “walk and talk” once more. (I hope you have been able to read the first of my blogs beginning December 25 (the day after Sabine died). In it I told the story of her dying after 13 years in the cancer-struggle. I believe I have found some deep learnings which will be of help to others who will, one day, be left behind to “close the eyes of their beloved”).

I pray that the coming year will be a better, kinder, healthier, and peaceful year for all of us.

Thanks for being here.

A large wall hanging given to us by our kids after one summer reunion. Sabine had another reunion scheduled this summer with a Bluegrass band, tend, and barbecue, but the event had to be cancelled because of the pandemic. Our last gala event was five years ago here at the farm.