This morning I saw my dermatologist, and I'd scratched a mole on my forehead. It was when I first heard of my brother's death. I told her my brother had died, and she gave me a hug and all the space I needed to talk if I wanted to. I briefly did tell her he was younger, and he'd killed himself over health issues. Her right speech was saying she was so sorry and encouraging me to be strong and take care of myself. And then we had this strange little conversation about males and how the culture tells them they should be independent and not ask for help and how much that hurts them. I said I felt sorry for men, who think they are not interconnected and don't need others. It seems so lonely. And that caused me to have even more empathy for my brother, who was a football player, an athelete, a tough guy. He was scared and lonely but felt he couldn't admit those feelings to anyone.
My dermatologist is also my friend, and we laugh together and catch up every three months when I come in. Right speech requires trust, and I trust her and I believe she values me as a person. So, surprisingly, I was able, with her help, to open a little window on my brother and see a bit more of his struggle and suffering. It's a gift, this right speech, right connection, right honesty. Practicing it enlarges my view and my life.
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