There are people who have kind of gone away since Michael's diagnosis and my dad's death. I understand that. We all do what we can do.
One woman who I have worked with on a volunteer basis for a few years recently responded to a message I sent her. In her response, she asked about my family. I told her about Michael and about the recent death of my dad. A week has gone by and she hasn't responded, even though I've seen posts of hers on Facebook.
For a few days, I felt hurt. And that didn't make much sense, since I believe - in my head, anyway - that people do what they can do. I haven't always been perfect at supporting people when they were going through hard times.
Today, I realized that, even though it seemed justified and harmless, I was placing expectations on someone while not having a clue whether or not that person was going through something hard also.
So I wrote this person a card, telling her that she was in my thoughts and expressing my gratitude for the qualities I admire in her. It was important that I only did this with no expectation of anything in response and with absolutely no ulterior motives - like wanting to induce guilt. I knew I had to do it with true appreciation and best wishes for this person.
I could do that.
Right now, I feel a sweetness toward this woman.
And I feel free.
I wonder if she's waiting for the "right" words to reply? I know I find it so very difficult to get them sometimes and feel that, what I do write, is clunky and awkward.
ReplyDeleteSometimes we wait to write and, in the waiting, the words get no easier at all!
I think of you both often (and owe you an email message too!.) x
What a generous perspective you have. I wonder if people sometimes say nothing because they've heard too many insensitive things - or read about them - and don't want to stumble. There are others who could stand to wait a moment (or 497) before they speak. I hope your friend is well and finds her voice for you, following the example you set.
ReplyDeleteDancing,
ReplyDeleteMaybe she IS waiting for the right words. Maybe I should have added to my note that there are no right words and it's just good to know that someone cares.
Thanks for thinking of us! I look forward to hearing from you whenever you feel like writing. It's all good.
xo
G.G.,
ReplyDelete"(or 497)" You crack me up!
I hope she is well, also. It took a little while to be generous. Meanwhile, I was the one that was suffering. Can't afford that anymore...
well, like others said here ... sometimes folks don't know what to say when really all it takes is a simple 'i'm so sorry'.
ReplyDeleteCarol: I said 497 because I thought it would be more kind than repeating a comment someone said to console me after OF died. :I know just what you mean. I had to put my cat down last week." 497 may have helped . . .
ReplyDeleteOh, my, G.G. That is amazing. Talk about not knowing the appropriate thing to say. Yep, that person could have used 497 - or more - moments to put herself (or himself) in your shoes. I am so sorry that that happened to you at such a raw time.
ReplyDeleteCarol: The thing is, I believe she meant it in a most sincere way, so I expressed my condolences for the loss of her pet. If nothing else, it got me out of my own woes for a while and taught me that it really isn't as easy to say the right thing as we'd like to think. What I did give her credit for was that she didn't hesitate a second before offering her remark, si I think she was genuinly trying to make a connection in the best way she could. I know . . . call me Pollyanna.
ReplyDeleteYou know, G.G., I think that you are right. I bet she WAS trying to connect with you in the way that she knew best. And I'm sure she was grieving, also.
ReplyDeleteThrough these last two months, I have often found it healing when I am called to be there for another person's sadness, worries, problems, etc., so, yes, maybe she was a wonderful gift of helping you get out of your own strong feelings.
Thanks for following up with your perspective.
I think that sometimes not only do others not know what to say, but are afraid that somehow the sadness or the whatever emotion other than happy will "rub off" on them. When my son died, everybody disappeared.
ReplyDeleteFor what it's worth, thank you so much for your kindness and support while my husband and I were going through his mother's illness, hospital stay and passing. It meant so much.
Amy,
ReplyDeleteI'm sorry that people disappeared when your son died. I hope that if I had known you then, I wouldn't have...
You are welcome. You all went through some intense times.