"The tongue has no bones..." by Liz Flaherty

"The tongue has no bones, but is strong enough to break a heart. So be careful with your words." -Unknown

I have a fondness for words, which probably isn't much of a surprise to anyone. I have, in recent years, come to flinch from the cruelty of some of them. I learned to love being called a snowflake because before it became a universally loved and accepted pejorative term, it meant something beautiful that brought joy. 

I've learned not to resent stupid as much as I used to because I know I'm not. Calling  me that is likely to make me beam and say bless your heart and think of how...er...stupid you sound using words willy-nilly for the simple purpose of hurting someone. I figured this out just recently, when I was called stupid because of my opinion and decried for using good grammar by the same person in the same conversation. 

I was stung a few weeks ago when I read in more than one place that lives and opinions of the elderly had no relevancy. Not only because it shocks me every time I re-realize I am one of the elderly, but because I don't understand why anyone would say such a thing about someone else.

This morning on Facebook--yeah, I know, how did I ever write before Facebook?--I read this, written by Martha Floyd and used with permission. 

Only nine signatures. Today it took only nine signatures to sign my mom up for hospice, but those signatures felt like nine million. Those nine signatures were some of the hardest ones I’ve made. Those nine signatures said No more doctor visits, no more tests, no more needle sticks and no more working toward a goal to get better. Today we ordered the meds to “keep my momma comfortable.” Today the big truck pulled up and dropped off the needed furniture and oxygen. Tomorrow my beautiful momma turns 83. But today I signed her up for hospice. Tomorrow will be a special day just for my momma. But tomorrow will be another day wishing I never had to write those nine signatures. Tomorrow will be a birthday celebration filled with joy, laughter, family, friends…and tears. Please keep my family in your thoughts and prayers as we begin this journey together.

I've read those words several times since the first time. I swiped them from social media and sent Martha a message asking if I could use them. She responded in time for me to add them. I imagine she's busy. It's her mom's birthday. Her heart is breaking. I've been there, haven't you?--in that aching, shattered place where loss resides. 

Two families (that I know of) in the community have suffered double bereavements lately, leaving mourners' lives with huge empty spaces. I can't pretend to know how they feel because even in the broken place I just mentioned, grief is far too personal to claim someone else's as your own. But I am so sorry for their losses. For the silences and the emotional bruises that have to heal in their own time if they heal at all.

I started this talking about words. They are to me what music is to some people and art is to others. I've complained--again--about their cruelty when they're used only for the purpose of hurt. I've shared someone else's with admiration for Martha's eloquence. And, like every time I've ever visited a funeral home, I realize that I really don't know what to say. 

Which makes it all the more important that what I say doesn't hurt anyone. No, let me fix that, because the truth is we all say and do things that hurt other people. So maybe what's important is that we don't cause harm and hurt purposefully. Maybe it's recognizing that the old Love Story saying of "Love means never having to say you're sorry" is likely just so much BS. Maybe it's nothing more than remembering that you can't unsay things. 

Have a good week. Be a friend. Be nice to somebody.