Lessons in Companionship and Hope

A few days after Christmas that year, my aunt and uncle welcomed my brother, sister, and me into their house. The living room was still decorated for the holiday, and the mantelpiece displayed garlands and colourful cards. Brass candlesticks reflected the room’s warm light.

It had been a hard couple of months. Dad learned he had cancer in the spring, and died one week before Christmas. I felt emptied by grief and by the effort to get through the funeral, and to support our stepmother. While trying not to dwell on our own mother’s death many years before.

Shift of focus

The evening started with a drink and appetizers, and I remember the tone being cheerful. Conversation was wide ranging and covered some of what we’d been through, without lingering on it. Instead, the focus was on small heartening things.

Our aunt and uncle encouraged stories from our 20- and 30-something year-old lives. They asked after our spouses in those early days of our marriages. And listened as we talked about our jobs, relatives, and friends.

After a while, we headed to the large table in the small dining room. Dinner was the type of homey, multicourse meal my aunt and uncle were known for. And as we ate, I began to feel more certain that better times would return. And that enjoyment of daily life could be regained.

Lasting gift

That meal was decades ago, and my aunt and uncle are gone, now. But the relief and companionship from our get-together is something I’ll always remember. My aunt and uncle’s gift was an understanding of the value of practical support for those who are struggling. And their example is one that I’ll always try to follow.