Until recently, I’d gotten through life without a major loss.
Previously, funerals were painful and pointless. I mean, what does “I’m sorry” really mean to a suffering loved one? How can a soul who’s grieving be comforted against the torturous pain? Even prior to my own loss, these questions bombarded me and diminished the importance, in my eyes, of my presence. Everything I could think of to say or do seemed a worthless social nicety and a pathetic gesture. So, I wouldn’t go…to avoid experiencing that pain myself. Selfish–I now know that I was inexcusably selfish.
So what have I learned? The simple acknowledgement of one’s suffering is, in some mysterious way, comforting. No, it does not change the soul-tearing pain. No, it doesn’t bring them back. No, it doesn’t shorten or soften the grieving process. Nonetheless, the calls, texts, and other communications of a fellow human’s concern truly did soothe, calm, and inspire. Hope–that is what it is. We give each other hope in our expressions of support.
And my personal pain as a mere witness to suffering? Irrelevant. Doesn’t even make the pain scale compared to those who’ve lost. To everyone in my life who ever thought I didn’t care: I did…I just didn’t know it mattered.