3 Things I've Learned After Writing Over 4,000 Sympathy Cards
This is not the first time I’ve written about writing sympathy cards. I reflect daily on the sympathy messages I write because I treasure them. People often ask, “when are you going to have someone else do all the writing?” My answer remains the same, “I won’t until I have to.” I love writing out these cards, word by word. What other type of message has the ability to coax both a tear and a smile, usually at the same time? I see magic in these messages of care, support, and love.
Despite they are often written for an occasion of death (though not always), the messages are full of life. Stories are told, memories are lovingly shared, and the range of human emotion can quite literally spill off one card and onto another. Grief re-shapes us, and the words people offer along the way helps that new shape take form. The words in sympathy cards are important and the blank card real estate is precious. So—after writing thousands of sympathy cards, what have I seen and what have I learned? I’ll share a few lessons here.
Support Isn’t Wordy
Just because the words are few and the message is brief, it doesn’t diminish its significance. In fact, the shortest messages often feel the most touching and genuine. Support can be simple, short, and it can be sweet. When a message drones on, it often turns into conveying more about the writer than the reader.
Honesty Feels Caring
Being honest in a sympathy card can be scary at first, but once you start to put the words down, it can feel safe and authentic. One of my favorite things to write is, “I won’t always know the exact thing say to you, but I want you to know I care about you.” Despite most everyone walks through some journey of grief or loss, no two paths are the same. Our unique life circumstances and nature of our relationships make every grief experience different. When comparisons are left behind (e.g. “when my mother died…”) and societal norms are forsaken (e.g. “he’ll return to normal after he gets through the funeral…”), we can lovingly embrace we may not know the right thing to say beyond letting them know we care and we don’t want them to feel alone. I’ve had the privilege to write how a person acknowledged complicated grief, “I know your relationship with your sister was difficult, and it’s OK if you don’t feel sad, and it’s OK if you do.” Being vulnerable about not knowing exactly what to say during difficult circumstances grants permission to allow the varied emotions of grief unfold in a healing way.
We Want to be of service to the Brokenhearted
“I wish I could take the pain away.”
“I’ll check in with you because I care about you.”
“We hope these items can provide moments of rest for you.”
We desperately want to help others through difficult times. We want to take the hurt, sadness, and pain away. But we all know we can’t—no matter what we say or do. Loss is sorrowful. In new revelations about grief, healing can happen by allowing the room to feel pain, sadness, and hurt (or even joy). In the most caring of messages, instead of trying to help a person avoid mourning or get rid of their pain, I’ve witnessed the best service to them is offering our presence. “I’m here for you, no matter what you’re feeling or going through.” I love when messages offer a space for a person and their emotions to be held, even if they hurt.
We can extend support, just by showing up.
Keep your kind messages coming. You are changing the way we comfort others through the most difficult of times. For that, I am grateful, and so are the ones who read the words of support through your caring sympathy card messages.