The Little Things Mean the Most

I often say that it’s the little things that speak volumes. I noticed this on the weekend, when I went into Daniel’s room and noticed he had put up the framed drawing of Barry that Gary had commissioned an artist to do at the end of last year. Hanging a portrait only takes a second, and not much effort, but when the subject is someone who tears at your heart every time you look at the drawing, hanging that portrait becomes a milestone. Daniel feels ready to look upon Barry’s face again. This is wonderful. It makes me smile on the inside (if you know what I mean).

Then, yesterday, my family got together to celebrate my mother’s 70th birthday. We went on a cruise for lunch. After a couple of weeks of dismal, rainy weather we were pleased to see the sun (even if the temperature and wind were cold). The MC for the day sang happy birthday to Mum and then asked her a few questions. Where was she from? Was this her family? How many grandchildren did she have? Without hesitation Mum told the MC that she had four grandchildren (she had included Barry). This was another occasion that made me smile on the inside. Acknowledgement of Barry means the world to me…it’s a gift.

When someone mentions his name without me haven spoken about him first, it is like music to my ears. People worry that they will upset me by talking about Barry and, sometimes, this might be true, but it upsets me more when no one says his name except me. I need to know other people have remembered and care. This, also, is a precious gift.

It’s the small things that mean the most. These things are free, but to the grieving person, they are priceless.

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