a trembling voice, a deep sigh, and a shared memory

I always run out of something I need at Christmas. You know...gift wrap, tape, butter, sprinkles. This year, though, I was especially careful to stock up because I knew I couldn't just dash to the store for every little thing. In fact, I haven't been to the store in weeks thanks to the Covid-19 pandemic...and thanks to people who risk their lives delivering everything I need right to my door. Safely. Thank you very much.

"What you stock up on

tells a lot about you."

~Shilpa Ahuja~

Still, I did come up short on a couple of things. As expected, I ran out of gift tags, ribbon, and bows. I did not, however, anticipate running out of sympathy cards.

I usually pick up a few at a time when I think of it. You never know when you'll need one. The problem is I needed quite a few this year. One for a friend who lost her husband because of diabetes and heart failure, unrelated to Covid. I sent a Christmas card to a childhood friend of mine, and her husband wrote back to tell me she had passed way earlier in the year. A couple of patients and other friends passed on, as well. Which is why I ran out of cards.

"Make sure you stock up

on compassion."

~unknown~

Yesterday, I learned that another friend had died. He was diagnosed with Covid a couple of weeks ago, and succumbed the day after Christmas. His wife worked in our office for many years, and like me, she retired a while back. I haven't seen her or spoken to her for a couple of years. Still, I wanted to send her a card so I was surprised and disappointed to discover I'd run out. I could have sent her an email, or a text message, or I could have penned a short note, instead of running out for a card. But I didn't. I tracked down her phone number, and I called her. It was the right thing to do. 

As lovely as a card can be, I find standard sympathy messages too often trite, or unfitting, or poorly conceived. On the other hand, a trembling voice, or a deep sigh, or a shared memory is not only heard, but felt. Not just felt, but embodied. Not just embodied, but preserved until we can reconnect face to face, and heart to heart as soon as it is safe. The spoken word isn't cast aside to molder in a drawer somewhere. It grows, and deepens, and aches like the longing we feel for one another.

"Words mean more than what is

set down on paper.

It takes the human voice to infuse them

with deeper meaning."

~Maya Angelou~

Worldwide, almost 2 million people have already died of Covid-19. The numbers are climbing. Soon, there may not be enough sympathy cards to go around. What will you do then? What will you say instead? How will you say it?

"Empty hands are easier to hold."

~from CWPoet~

jan