At some point in your life, you’re going to have a monster under your bed. These experiences are not reserved for childhood. They can even happen again and again. I’ve had four over the past five years!

Hurried folks were pushing their baskets as fast as they could on that Friday evening right after work. The darkening clouds of approaching rain added an urgency to the search for something to fix for dinner at the end of the week. All of this hurry and scurry was swinging past us as we hugged in the flower department that evening. She was filled up with the fear of that cancer monster that had crawled out from under their bed. I was stunned and just trying to find a way to comfort. All while the chaos of life careened all around.

My friend saw me as we approached each other from different ends of the store. She told told me that as she drove up, she knew I’d be there. Probably her soul knew she needed people to lean on during these very hard days. We caught up and I heard the grim news. Heartbreaking, about her husband. She was tired, worried and her eyes were filled up with that deep uncertainty about the days ahead. I’d been there, done that, so I recognized her expression at once.

Nothing got fixed, but she knew there was one other person on her team. She left the store that night, assured that she wasn’t alone in this hard, hard fight.

“Anything that’s human is mentionable, and anything that is mentionable can be more manageable. When we can talk about our feelings, they become less overwhelming, less upsetting, and less scary. The people we trust with that important talk can help us know that we are not alone.” ― Fred Rogers

Someone else lost their job. What’s going to happen next year? Will I find a new place to work was written all across his face as we sat together at lunch. What’s it been now, two years? He’s still searching. I keep wanting to come up with some sort of solution or wise advice. Males are like that, we want to fix things. The problem is, if we don’t have a solution in our pocket, we tend to avoid contact. That’s always the wrong choice. What people need is just to sit there over chips and salsa and have someone listen. I’ve been so blessed to have several guacamole friends who listen so well. I hope I can get better at it myself.

The beast under the bed is never as frightening when we have someone who will listen to our fearful discourse, no matter how silly it sounds once it’s out there.

“Don’t give in to your fears. If you do, you won’t be able to talk to your heart.” ― Paulo Coelho

As the hours changed, the students came in and lined up to get their drinks at the campus coffee shop. We never drank coffee when I went to college. How did we get through without all the caffeine and latte? My friend and I had worked here at the university for decades. All of a sudden, like a drunk driver crashing into your car out of nowhere, we were both widows. We sat together over our hot beverages, watching the students come in out of the rain and got caught up. There are so many tasks that must be attended to when a spouse is gone. No one ever explains this or provides a manual in case of emergency.

We don’t talk much about the jobs we had lost, but mostly about the lives that had suddenly disappeared. I walk away with great advice just listening to what he’s tackled or is planning to get done. You have no idea, unless you’ve walked this road yourself. Let me just give you a very brief list of what we casually talk about: possessions, adult children, moving, cremation, church, providence, friendship, grace, jewelry, couches, and grandchildren. I’m certain meal planning is on the horizon.

Whatever might be scary under the bed always seems less so after I’ve found a fellow traveler who’s been on the same road and can tell me it’s going to be okay. One who’s also found an easy way to get rid of that extra bed in the now shrinking house.

“No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear. I am not afraid, but the sensation is like being afraid. The same fluttering in the stomach, the same restlessness, the yawning. I keep on swallowing. At other times it feels like being mildly drunk, or concussed. There is a sort of invisible blanket between the world and me. I find it hard to take in what anyone says. Or perhaps, hard to want to take it in. It is so uninteresting. Yet I want the others to be about me. I dread the moments when the house is empty. If only they would talk to one another and not to me.” ― C.S. Lewis

I Those monsters under the bed don’t disappear once we grow up. What I’m learning, mostly the hard way, is that everyone is fighting a hard battle – or soon will be. There’s someone nearby who needs a lifejacket of your time. All you have to do is give a little nudge. It may a take a few texts, calls, notes or smiles to let ’em someone know you mean it. Chips and salsa usually works with everyone.