You are probably thinking it is. It is too late to make that apology; tell someone you are sorry or give someone a compliment. It is not too late.

The human spirit craves these things. And as long as the reaching out is sincere and not about you; well, I cannot fathom it would not be well received.

My brother died three months and six days ago (I just did math; there is no hidden meaning to my knowing this fact). And my friends were lovely, supportive in many different forms. And here is a hint, when you are at ground zero of loss… it is a blur. It really is. You remember the over and beyond kindness and the very humorous stories… but I have found the times I have gone through this… you remember very little else. I don’t even really remember the mean, and I know it is there, it is human nature also. The ying and yang, but I only remember the good and the funny.

I remember Donald’s classmate who told me a tear worthy but changed other lives story about him and her mom’s response to his disappointment. I remember this man who dented my mom’s car with his knee… I think I hugged him twice for bringing such a wonderful memory and backstory to the visitation. I remember the man at my mom’s visitation who told me in high school he and my mom used to run in a group together and then get flustered when I said, I bet you could tell me some stories! You remember the outliers. Keep that in the back of your mind when you go to the viewing, visitation, wake, etc.

I got a package today from a wonderful friend. She was there during this time with text and email and I was thankful for her support. She was one of the first people I reached out to. The card was a thinking of you card. The message inside … well it was an apology for being so late to show sympathy this way, but no excuse (and believe me, to quote my mother, this woman is busier than a one-armed paper hanger) but that was not in the card. It was that she was still thinking of me, that I was a great sister and I wrote one hell of an obituary. She sent me a blanket because she wanted to give me a hug but is 900 miles away. It was perfect. And perfect not because I had been stewing about her prior response (because I had noticed no lateness nor a slight). But because it came out of the blue, after a night of battling dream demons and my sub conscious second guessing my decisions of five years ago with my mom’s health. She reached out and wanted to make sure I knew she had not forgotten and that she cared.

It was a hug in a box. And it was perfect. It is never too late to reach out.

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