When words seem empty, show, don't tell.
This piece will be shorter than previous weeks. It’s been a heavy week, given the state of our world (with bloodshed in the Middle East being the most heartbreaking), and I feel strongly that doing less of the usual should be the norm for times like these. Less thinking, less productivity, more feeling our feelings, and more time being with our loved ones. The internet would have you think the opposite, but that is the trap of reactivity. I urge anyone who has the privilege of a pause to let that gentle pause be.
I attended a celebration of life this week, and although I didn't know the person who passed, I knew a big part of her: her son. He is one of the best humans I've met on this planet, and I am always awed by his generosity of heart. I got the sense, from his eulogy and from the others who came to pay their respects, that his mother was no different. She was a courageous woman whose love was grand.
After the mass ended, I saw my loved one again and gave him a hug because hugs are what I know best. I also tried to use words to express my deep empathy for his loss. With my words, I tried to convey that I understood what he was going through, although deep down I knew I would never truly understand. I am not living his very personal experience although I can sense the suffering of a fellow human being. It all felt like a painful paradox. Regardless, I made the effort, and I hope it counted for something.
Later, I got home after a long drive back, exhausted. I laid in bed and asked myself if I had said the right thing earlier, if I had said anything helpful to my family member, something to help him cope with his grief. Or had I made it worse? I didn't sit in that space for too long because I knew that my words didn't really matter. What mattered is that I had shown up; that I was physically there to hold a collective space for his grief. What mattered is that he understood that he was not alone. After all, isn't that what friendship and love are all about? Just showing up in the ways we can and making the arrangements we need to make to get there. And yes, there will be circumstances where getting there is not possible, such as when long flights are required, but even then, there are other ways to make it happen. A thoughtful gift by mail, a phone call, a handwritten card, a kind gesture to let them know that we have not forgotten them in their struggle.
During this heavy week, I hope that we can all remember that humanity is not lost and that it continues to live in the small but meaningful acts we exchange as gifts with one another. I hope that we are not just showing up for the celebrations but for the days of loss and grief because it is in those moments that we truly need each other the most.
Photo by Michael Fenton on Unsplash