The bonds between us can’t be replicated — which is cause for gratitude and grief

Chocolate chip scones with cinnamon honey butter. Thai chop quinoa chickpea salad and pesto bites. Lemon passet and flourless chocolate cake. Hot and cold tea.

The courses arrived, one after another in a seemingly endless array, borne on trays by a small army of daughters-in-law, their ruffled floral skirts swaying in the breeze.

No one hosts a memorable tea party like Rita, and no one else makes me feel pampered and served in that specific way.

Every year, my friend Rita Baker offers to host a tea as a fundraiser for a local prison ministry called Gospel Echoes Northwest. She sells eight tickets at the organization’s annual auction in the spring. Hosting these complicated events is a unique gift she offers not only the prison ministry but her friends and family and everyone who is invited to attend.

My sister-in-law Bonnie often buys tickets to the tea, and this year she invited me to be her guest. Like the others, we came in pretty summer outfits and brought empty stomachs and anticipation.

We met in a shady area along Muddy Creek, found our name tags at a large lace-covered table, and admired the stunning place settings and decorations — a large white hydrangea bouquet in a white pitcher in the middle, Royal Albert china, slices of lemon and lime on our water goblets and sprigs of dried lavender on our cloth napkins.

Soon, a young helper poured hot tea into our teacups and Rita welcomed us with an inspirational reading. We introduced ourselves, then enjoyed watching one course after another unfold as daughters-in-law, aunts and cousins whisked in with one astonishing course after another. 

Tiny scoops of sorbet in glass bowls — eaten with tiny spoons — arrived first to cleanse our palates, then those were replaced by goblets of a creamy, cold strawberry soup garnished with mint and sliced berries.

Next came three varieties of scones, followed by six savories, all with constant refills of our water glasses and teacups. In the gentle conversation, we discussed places we’ve lived, what brought us to the Willamette Valley, our families and answered prayers.

Before the desserts arrived, we were invited to create bouquets from cut flowers at a nearby cart — roses, dahlias, ranunculus, with filler greens like eucalyptus.

After three hours, we got up to leave, filled and satisfied with beauty, tea, conversation and food. 

I am learning to be grateful for each person’s unique contribution to my life. Rita’s tea parties, of course, and how honored I feel when I attend. Bonnie’s generosity and thoughtfulness, not only for inviting me but in years of well-timed gifts and help.

In the continued processing of our son Steven’s passing, I was struck by the specific gifts he brought to my life that no one else can, such as his emergency-medicine skills.

Early on a recent Saturday, I got up from the table in the semi-darkness to refill my cup of coffee. My foot caught on the leg of a step stool, and suddenly I heard the tinkling of broken glass and found myself flat on the kitchen floor. My daughter Emily, home for the summer, heard the crash and came to my rescue, gently easing me to my feet and taking the broken eyeglasses from my face.

As more and more body parts turned black and blue, and my chest stabbed agonizingly when I coughed, I missed Steven’s expertise. As an EMT, he was always my first resource with medical needs. He combined compassion with practical advice and a deep protectiveness with a calming reassurance. He could have told me if I needed ice, ibuprofen, x-rays, rest or all of these.

I no longer have anyone like him.

My chiropractor checked for broken bones, suggested arnica for the bruises, and tapped my displaced ribs back where they belonged, relieving the sharp pain.

Of course, I’ve always known that everyone is unique, but until Steven’s passing last year, I hadn’t realized that that means your relationship is unique as well — how you interact, how they make you feel, the lasting impact of your connection.

No one else loves me exactly like Steven did, with the same exuberance, protectiveness and hugs. No one else in the family is interested in obscure medical details or fire-related news items like he and I were.

The loss is not only him as an individual but the specific interaction we had that no other relationship will ever replicate.

It’s made me evaluate and appreciate all my other relationships as well. Emily, who has dealt with difficult health issues, offers a unique empathy in physical pain. Bonnie makes me feel cared for in ways that no one else does. My sister Margaret appreciates funny cat memes, my friend Simone understands my mental health and my sister-in-law Lois helps me feel normal.

Everyone who loves me brings a blessing to my life that no one else can duplicate. It’s humbling and gratifying to realize that this goes both ways, and in the bond between us, I bring something special to them in turn.

This is the gift of family, of friends, of neighbors who wave as they pass: You and they share a specific connection unique in all the world. No one serves me with beauty quite like Rita; no one else can reproduce what you bring to your world.