Just BE

What do you say to comfort someone who has lost a child or sibling?
This is, perhaps, the most difficult time to find the words to express your empathy for their pain.
In times like this, we often attempt to find the right words (or what we think may be the right words) to offer solace.
On some level, I think we do this to make ourselves feel better.
It comforts us to know that we tried to comfort someone in their darkest days.
So Again, I pose the question, "What do you say to comfort someone who has lost a child?"

Let me tell you a secret, you don't have to SAY anything.
You just have to Be. Be a sister, be a brother, be a niece, be a nephew, be a friend.
Just BE there to listen, be there to talk or just be there to sit in silence.
You do not need to offer distractions, lessons, or anecdotes.
You do not need to be a saving grace.
You do not need to be a superhero.
You just need to be there.
Know there is comfort in your presence.
JUST
BE

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Tragedy has become a permanent member of my family over the last few years.  About two weeks ago he reared his ugly head again, this time untimely claiming the life of a cousin.  Tragedy always takes them young.  In the last 2.5 years, three sons (and brothers) have been snatched from their loved ones: 25, 26, 35. 

One of these sons happened to be my own brother.  Less than three months after his 25th birthday, he was brutally gunned down.  Two and a half years later, the pain is still immeasurable and hard to describe.  There are still no words that can give me comfort on the days that I miss him most.

When I heard of my cousin's passing, my first thought was, of course, to call my aunt and my cousin. My next thought was what do I say? One would imagine because my mother, siblings and I lost my brother a few years back that I would have the perfect words of comfort; but that was not the case.  I was at a loss for words.  Not because I actually did not know what to say; but because I knew that there was nothing that I could say to offer any comfort to their broken hearts.

When asked to write a piece for the funeral, again writer's block took over. I knew that I had no words to offer my aunt and cousin to ease the pain of their loss; however, I did remember all of the things people said to me when my brother died.  How they believed that they were helping, but many of them were only putting their foot in their mouths, or telling my "how" or in what capacity to grieve; some even had the audacity to suggest how long my grieving should last.  Mostly, they just hurt me profoundly.  For these reasons, and more, I addressed my poem to my aunt and cousin's immediate family and friends. Sometimes saying less means a lot more than you could ever know.  Sometimes just being there provides the most comfort.