I ran across a draft letter I wrote several years ago, and I’m kicking myself for not sending it. Why? It was a condolence letter to the husband of an old friend of the family, and I realize now that I never felt like it was good enough to send.
L. and her first husband were close to my parents when I was young, and as couples split apart and merged in new formations, L. remained part of our circle. Even when she remarried, moved away and I hadn’t seen her for years, L. occupied a warm place in my heart. Then she got sick and died, and I didn’t know what to say to the new husband I’d never met.
Still, I searched for a card. I bought a stamp. I drafted a letter. I didn’t send it.
Running across the draft, I realize that what I might have said was less important than the impulse to share what L. meant to me. Here’s my draft, names abbreviated:
Dear P.,
I wanted to write to say how sorry I was to hear about L.’s passing. You know my father M. well, of course, and L. was a good friend of our family for years.
L. was many things, an academic, a family friend, wife, mother, upstanding member of the community and snazzy dresser. She was kind enough to invite us to her son’s bar mitzvah. The energy was happy, swirling, bright and compelling, much like L. herself.
When I think of L., I remember her smile, her warmth, the care she showed for those around her. I think of her dancing.
I am so sorry for her loss.*
Perfect? No, but it was good enough. What lesson do I take from this? What will I tell myself the next time?
I wanted it to be perfect because it mattered. But I had it backwards. I understand now that because it mattered, it didn’t have to be perfect.
* * *
Reach out.
Share your feelings.
Send the card.
* * *
* * *
* Note following a discussion on this with my father: I debated using the more typical “sorry for your loss” but decided that while I was deeply sorry for P., what I meant in the bigger picture was “I’m so sorry she’s gone.” So I used “her loss.” Told you it wasn’t perfect, but that’s ok.
