Amanda Greever

Long-time readers might recall a column from last August in which I talked about my first tennis tournament. My BFF (formerly known as Best Gal Pal — she didn’t like that name) and I went to Cincinnati for the Western & Southern Financial Group Masters & Women’s Open.

Her draw was her favorite tennis player Rafael Nadal, of Spain. For me, I didn’t really give much of a flying flip about tennis, but I was excited to go and hang out with her. And then once I got there, I discovered the tourney held a very different kind of appeal for me. I didn’t care so much whether the ball was in bounds or returned … I just enjoyed watching it be hit. Nadal and his opponent Novak Djokovic both managed to look pretty and muscly with each swing of the racquet. And there was something to be said for the “power of the grunt” as I put it last year.

This year’s tournament was this past weekend, but we didn’t go. No, our place wasn’t in Cincinnati. It was at St. Mary’s hospital since her father had been admitted only a couple of days before. He’s been battling cancer for quite a while now, but last week seemed to be a turning point for him.

Don’t get me wrong … we had tickets for the tourney. BFF purchased them months ago. The hotel and rental car were both booked. And honestly, there was a period of time where we thought it would be safe to go for a day. The hope that she would see Nadal play were dashed Friday afternoon, along with the hopes that her father would improve.

I’d gone over to the hospital Thursday night when she called saying he was having heart problems. She was panicked and frazzled so I finished up at work and headed straight over. I hadn’t met most of the extended family before that night but for the next few days, we were destined to spend a lot of time together.

I couldn’t stop thinking about something her mom said. She noted that even in those dark times, it was still good for the family to be together and that she would be thankful for it later on. It would prove to be sweet and healing, even in the face of such grief and sadness.

And you know what? She was right. As I said, it was Friday evening when we discovered he was only going to get worse and the end was near. At that point, it became a matter of waiting. Folks came out of the woodwork to pay their respects and stop by to say hello to this man they obviously thought a lot of.

And in the midst of it all, family members who didn’t normally talk a lot began finding an emotional connection. Conversations began to flow freely and the hugs became more sincere, rather than an obligatory courtesy. Heck, even I became an honorary member of the family as I struggled to find a way to help. I tried to find a way to be a comfort, but I began to realize that sometimes the most comforting thing a person can do is simply be there when needed. They welcomed me with open arms as if I were actually related to them.

Her father passed last Saturday night. It was a moment of great sadness but at the same time, his suffering had finally ended. It’s one of life’s bittersweet moments when your heart is torn between breaking and being lifted up out of relief. Honestly, I think the hospital vigil might have been more painful than the funeral and grave side service yet to come. As her mom put it, there had already been so much emotion during the weekend, it was hard to believe more could be found. But it seems that our hearts can be never-ending wells of hurt, love, pain, joy, etc.

The whole situation made me do a lot of thinking. I began thinking about my own family and realizing I hadn’t been home nearly enough to see them all. And at the same time, I also realized that even in the darkest of times, a light can be found when you surround yourself by those who love you. So when you finish reading this, go call someone you love, or better yet, give someone a hug. Moments like that were meant to be cherished.