At A Loss for Words

With all the wonderful words in the English language to choose from, I can't find any that express what I want to say to a friend/acquaintance of mine, a mother with two elementary school children, whose forty-five year-old husband died from colon cancer this weekend. Saying "My condolences" seems so empty and impersonal. "I'm sorry" seems --- well, not quite right for the death of her husband.

Here is what I want to tell her in a letter...

Dear B.

I'm at such a loss for words right now. "My condolences" and "I'm sorry" seem so empty. I can't begin to imagine what you must be going through. Instead, I will picture myself holding you as I would my sons or daughters and telling you that...

It is OK to cry yourself to sleep, to cry in front of your kids, to cry when doing dishes or going grocery shopping. Crying is one great way to ease the pain. As a granddaughter once told me, "Crying lets the sad out." Just be sure to keep an ample supply of tissues with you.

It's OK to be angry at God. You can yell and scream at him if you want. He knows what you are feeling, so give him a piece of your mind if necessary. He can take it.

It's OK to be angry at your husband. Even though he did all he could to fight the cancer, you can still be angry at him for leaving you. It is a normal emotion that needs to be worked through even if it means writing him a letter.

Talk with your kids, cry with your kids, help them express their feelings through writing, drawing, looking at pictures or even breaking balloons.
 
Write. Write things you don't want to forget. Write down your fears and anxieties as well as those little times of blessing and joy--it helps put things in perspective, Write down your feelings, no matter what they are. They are neither right nor wrong. They are what they are at this moment in time.
 
Be thankful for all the years you had together.

Talk, talk talk. Find a friend who will listen without interrupting or giving advice--one who is all ears, yet can keep things confidential. This may even be a therapist.

I am praying for you and the kids as you begin a journey down a road you never expected to take. Because of your diligence and hard work at our scrap-booking retreats, your many beautiful albums of photos and stories about parties, vacations, fishing, and myriad mountains of fun will ease the journey.  Thankfully, these good times will never be forgotten.

And one other thing before I sign off. Grieving is a long, slow process. As hard as it is to grasp at this time, joy will return in time.

With lots of love,

Jan.

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