Sending Sympathy Notes
Reading through Family Stories from the Attic, the anthology I’ve been writing about in the last two posts (Life in Old Letters, Lingering Effects of WWII) has me thinking about letters I need to write, and haven’t been able to yet. Many of the stories in the book are inspired by letters saved and handed down. Letters from soldiers and sailors, letters from missionaries, letters between lovers. In all of them, there’s the simple lovely connection of words sharing feelings and joining author and reader across time and space. It’s heartbreaking to think of this tradition being lost as we become increasingly glued to electronic communication.
The letters I need to write are all sympathy notes. These are the hardest feelings for me to share, it seems. My must-write-them list keeps growing. Rarely am I able to write a sympathy card in the first few days of learning of someone’s death. I want to, but find I need to sit with the news for a time before I can find the words. Perhaps it’s a writing-related affliction. Or a procrastinator’s scourge?
Perhaps it’s fear. Will writing a heartfelt note pull me into revisiting my losses, my griefs, my future versions of the same? My list now begins in February and I’ve let it get too long. Friends don’t know how often I’m thinking of them in their loss as I scan and add to the list.
Note card “Autumn Birches” (c)2008, Little Fish Studios, Ellison Bay, WIThey MatterI know too well the importance of these notes. I have been the recipient of them and they matter. And yes, for all of you who send cards promptly and sign your name and let Hallmark do the rest, those matter too, but I don’t seem capable often of doing that. Unfortunately, sometimes I’ve lost track of the cards I need/want to send and they haven’t been sent. Ever. To my shame. I know, I know, there’s an easy solution. Send a Hallmark card with my signature, right away, like normal people, and follow up when I can with a longer note.
Next month, my birthday — my 57th — arrives and I know too well that my life will be punctuated with more and more sympathy cards to write as my days on earth continue. I also know that I am thankful every day to be here — a shared feeling among cancer survivors.
Today I will write my notes and mail them. Not — today I hope to write my notes. Not — today I’ll try to write my notes. Today I will write my notes and mail them. It is time for action, for words and action.
Sending Sympathy Notes was originally published in Pam Writes on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.
