Shared joy is a double joy; shared sorrow is half a sorrow.
~~ Swedish Proverb
I was walking with my good neighbor Rob tonight. His mother just passed and he was telling me how he loves his family, but his really family is his community. The people all around, in the neighborhood, at work, at church. “That’s my family,” said. The people who were there for him and who he depended upon.
I so understand. I think of how often my community is there for me. When my ex accused me of something horrible and how they all rallied to me and refused to believe what he said. The very same community that my ex convinced me like him—and only put up with me because I was with him. To my shock I received dozens of calls and emails and cards over the months after he and I split telling me exactly the opposite. They only put up with him so they could be around me.
The community that last night when I needed some research help leapt to the fore and within a short time found what I needed. I’d been trying for hours and they found it dazzlingly fast.
The community that raised $3000 that allowed my partner and I to fly to Baltimore and because legally married. Three thousand dollars! That is a lot of money.
I could go on and on. I am surrounded by family, some of them as far away as Wales, Australia, China and Iceland. That’s pretty amazing.
So I know that I know that I know that I will never be alone. That’s a pretty good feeling.