Sticks, Stones, and Air

 On one of my walks a while ago, I go to thinking about words.  The first thought I penned out in another post "Where Do Words Go".  But another thought I had was about the absence of words.  The childhood adage is "sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me," and it is spoken as if a brave talisman on playgrounds of the 70's and 80's.  And there are surely many words written where words are yielded as weapons causing grievous harm.  But there is also harm in the absence of words.

As I walked, and reflected, as I sometime do, I realized that sometimes the most painful words are those that were never spoken.  I recall that in 2009, I did something I regretted.  In the weeks following the loss of my niece, I was acutely aware of every message, every word -- I guess maybe when the world is rocking we can grab onto words for a second of stability.  I understand that some of friends probably just had no idea what to say.  But as the days went on and I poured my grieving soul into words,posts, pictures...every keystroke was as raw as a rake on scalded skin.  It felt vulnerable, weak, painful, but it was my way of reconciling my thoughts.  And I found myself feeling embarrassed for these emotions on a social media platform with a mix of friends who were responding, and those had been entirely silent on her death and every post that followed.  So I hit unfriend.  Not because I was angry, or expected something different, but because I was ashamed that I may be making them uncomfortable.  I closed my circle tighter.  I think most of us found each other again...but remembering that on my walk reminded me that sometimes it's better to say anything, even something dumb, than nothing at all.  I am sure that statement isn't universally applicable to all situations, but I think when it comes to grief, it's a true statement.  One of the people dearest to me said a one ine statement that could have come out of "Hillbilly Effigy" on the elegance scale, but they acknowledged the loss and where I was at, and it meant the world to me.  I expect I will carry those with me always.  I always try to remember who I was at that time when I sit down to write a sympathy card or speak condolences.   I share a story or memory, because those loved ones are gathering all the history they can.  

There are a lot of other ways the absence of words can hurt.  I am sure many can relate to the end of a friendship or relationship where the words run out and the distance grows.  Maybe there is an unreturned call, or unanswered questions.  Again, think back on breakups, I appreciate the honest close out conversations (and even the honestly stupid or stupidly honest ones) in comparison with the ones with things unsaid.

Some of the friendships I thought would last forever were guillotined (or slow poisoned) by a lack of words.  What wasn't said led me to understand that friendships had moved on without me. The things unsaid and omitted can no more be undone than a thing done.

There are things delayed too long, and I am guilty of many of those.  The check in phone call never made before the news of a former colleague's death arrived.  The invite to go for beer or coffee I was planning on making when I landed in a city instead of planning 2 weeks in advance like a normal person, only to find out the night before travelling that my friend had deteriorated rather suddenly and lost their battle with cancer the night before.

And of course, we all know work without thanks is neither rewarding nor teambuilding.  Words of gratitude and recognition are a form of nutrition in the workplace.  And then there's social media which can be insular and unidirectional without effort.

It's time I reconnect with my words.  And be intentional about placing them.  Sending them out can't hurt, and, of course, who knows where words may go.  Maybe someday they will help someone else heal.