My best friend’s father died on Saturday. I’ve known her and her family since I was 13 years old, so her family feels like my family.

Weldon and I went to see them yesterday afternoon and took what seemed like 10 pounds of chicken salad and a loaf of sourdough bread. While we were there, other friends brought a ton of cold cuts and bread, enough to make about a million sandwiches. There were already lots of cookies and donuts there.

I spoke to my friend, her sisters, and their mother. Her mother told me it was so nice to see my sweet face, which touched my heart deeply. And we visited with all the other relatives, the ones that we usually see at birthday parties.

There was much sadness in the house, but  plenty of laughter also. All the kids were running around, enjoying all the people and all the cookies. I finally told my friend I would be on call for her all week and I would be keeping in touch, and Weldon and I left after lots more hugs.

On our way home, Weldon and I had a long conversation. He said he never knows what to see in those situations, that he always has to fight the urge to ask, “How are you?” He said it doesn’t feel completely right to him to ask that, since he already knows the answer.

I think it’s an OK question to ask. It’s what I asked my friend, her sisters, and their mother. It gave each of them a chance to say out loud, I’m doing awful. Not good. I don’t know yet. This sucks. And it gave us a chance to cry together and to share a moment of human connection through strong emotion.

I was grateful that Weldon and I had this conversation. It helped me see that this kind of presence and connection is what makes life beautiful. And I will watch for opportunities to experience it. It obviously doesn’t have to be connection through sadness. It could be connection through joy and laughter or complete presence through conscious gratitude for a particular person in my life. But now that Weldon has helped me open up this awareness, I’ll be on the lookout for it everywhere.