With Sympathy...

It's a horrible thing to lose someone. Unless you really are an island, Simon and/or Garfunkle, it will happen sooner or later, for you I really hope it's later. Unfortunately, death visits us all no matter how much blood you smear on your doorposts.

When I was sixteen, my father lost his battle with cancer. It remains the most awful time in my life, obviously it colors my life to this day. It's why I rarely cry at 'very special' episodes of sitcoms or at the heartbreaking separation of protagonist from a child/lover/chipmunk family at the movies. I'm not a cold-hearted bastard, quite the opposite. I just know the far greater pain in real life than in these fictional stories.

So when I heard the news that one of the employees at the main office of my employer had lost her son in a car accident, I felt for her. I don't know what it's like to lose a child, I hope I never do. But I know what it's like to lose a father, so I have an inkling of the level of pain one would experience. I knew I had to send a card, because it's the very least I could do. The very, very least.

Off to Walmart's card department I went, to buy two cards: one for me to send with a personal message and one for all my co-workers to sign. I usually enjoy picking cards for special occasions, but I prefer the funny ones. They don't make funny sympathy cards, for obvious reasons. There are lots of cards with verses by Helen Steiner Rice and some that just sound like HSR. I'm reading them and, despite Rice's own personal tragedies, there is very little that would help me get through the pain of losing someone. In fact, a lot of the cards were more painful to read than helpful. Don't tell someone to remember the good times, that hurts just as much as forgetting. Don't remind someone that they will see their loved one in heaven, that's too far away. Don't tell them God's holding them, because God is probably their least favorite person right now. To be honest, there are no words that make the pain less. It hurts like god-fucking-damned hell, it just does.

I think back to those dark days in the spring of 2000, when we got so many cards and flowers, and can't recall a single pre-printed message, good or bad. It's the names written inside, the scrawled "I'm praying for you" or "You are in my thoughts" that meant something. It's the only thing that carries you through; the support of friends, family, coworkers and people you barely knew.

So I got cards with simple messages. Because there are literally no words.