A good friend of mine lost her dad this last weekend. It was unexpected and I was shocked to get the news. She’s my first close friend to lose a parent and even though her dad was older than my parents are, he still seemed too young. It has left me wondering how to be a good friend to someone who has suffered such an intimate hurt. My first thought was that I needed to bake her a loaf of banana bread. Which feels like an odd choice since she lives two states away and I’m not sure the banana bread would hold up well in the mail. But I’m overcome with the urge to bake for her. I want to bottle up all the love I have for her and get it in her hands as quickly as possible. I tried to write a card, but all my words felt flat and hollow. Food is at least tangible and provides nourishment and ideally some form of comfort.

But how am I to know what she really needs? It is still so soon, only days later. We all grieve differently, although I have seen her grieve before. I was with her the day she found out a college roommate of hers had died in a car crash. Witnessing that raw reaction was heartbreaking and I just wanted to hold her. That’s how I like to be comforted, I like to be held. When I was told my uncle had finally lost his battle with ALS I was young, 13 and on a mission trip in Mexico. I immediately burst into tears and a woman on the trip with us came right up to me and wrapped her arms around me and said “I’ll hold you for as long as you want”. She was more or less a stranger and she ran to me in my moment of need. That has stuck with me all these years later. I want to run to my friend and hold her for as long as she wants.

I’m waiting for the right time to go and see her, so maybe in the meantime, a delicious buttery loaf of banana bread will let her know I’m here – grieving with her, thinking of her, praying for her family and remembering her dad.

My favorite banana bread recipe can be found in the “Bride & Groom: First and Forever Cookbook” by Mary Corpening Barber, Sara Corpening Whiteford, Rebecca Chastenet de Gery & Susie Cushner