This past year has been tough for many people I care about, and to be honest, myself included. People have dealt with sudden unimaginable trauma, long drawn-out illnesses, the loss of parents, children, and spouses. Divorce, job loss, moving away from familiar things. It has been a lot, and it has been a lot at once.
I have struggled to find the right words for any of it. What do you say to someone on the worst day of their life that adequately conveys what you feel for them? Nothing, I've come to think. There are no words appropriately aligned to that kind of situation, and the search for them is partly a way of stalling — of doing the easier thing instead of the harder one. Over time, I've realized it's not really the words that matter anyway. People don't remember words as time marches on. They remember how people showed up for them, and how it made them feel.
When Laurel was in the NICU, the most important thing someone could do was bring food or sit with me. Not because either could fix the situation, but because I knew I didn't have to navigate it alone. Will didn't take much time off after she was born, and I spent most days camped out next to her, watching the monitors and marveling at her. It wasn't exciting. It wasn't a story anyone was going to tell later. But the people who scrubbed in and sat with me in that quiet — I remember every one of them. I couldn't tell you a single thing any of them said.
Showing up is harder than it sounds, especially for someone like me. I'm busy bouncing from one thing to the next. I am staunchly independent and I get very offended when people try to help — and also very offended when they refuse the help I desperately want to provide. It's a double standard I'm aware of and not particularly proud of. I'm learning, slowly, that letting people show up for me is its own form of showing up for them, and that the reverse is true too. The friend who lets you bring soup is giving you something. The colleague who tells you what they actually need is giving you something. Half of showing up is being willing to receive it.
I don't think I'll ever be great at the words part. But I'm trying to be the person who brings the food. Who sits in the quiet. Who shows up before being asked, and stays a little longer than is comfortable. That's the part people remember. That's the part that matters.