Today, I packed up a friend to help her move across the country. We met at the gym, through a mutual friend a few years ago, and recently became better friends when the same friend asked us to be part of her bridal party.

She rallied some friends together, we packed up her items, and put them in the U-Haul. She’s around for a couple more weeks, but I could feel the grief and sorrow in the air when I stepped out of the car. For reasons I won’t disclose, we were on a time crunch and wanted to get in and out. The word that came to me was “swift”. A couple of us prayed over the move and I knew God was overseeing.

There were a few times that tears came to my eyes for her experiences, our collective grief, our newly strengthened friendship, and for the people who band together to support one another. Once I was by myself, the tears really came. I had already been grieving so many other things and now a friend was moving. I am used to friends moving as I have friends scattered throughout the US. This was different. I felt, and feel, alone in her moving. Of course, I want the best for her, and selfishly, I want her to stay. I want us to take day trips up to Sedona, eat some chocolate, and discuss mental health. I am so excited for her and what the future holds, while I am also so sad and full of grief.

Looking back on today, I see the collateral beauty of the day, and her move. The pain of her leaving the state where our friendship blossomed and the beauty of us coming together. Being around strong women creates a bond that I am unable to explain. We are able to be strong and vulnerable at the same time. We get it done WITH the tears in our eyes.