I just received an email from my cousin who has been so supportive around my brother's death. His dad, my uncle, had a stroke and his left side is paralyzed. I'm praying for him and the whole family, and this is another of those cases where words seem hopeless. Yet, the words my cousin used to inform me immediately of my uncle's state were invaluable, and give me the opportunity to respond and have words he can show and read to the family.
That immediate impulse to reach out is the trait in my mother's family that I treasure so much. There is a confidence in it: he knows we care and will do anything to help. He knows he's loved and that his family is at his back. My mother's family, with her 12 siblings, was a resource to her throughout her life. Her older sister nurtured her, and she in turn took care of my uncle. The three of them ventured out as teenagers to work in town in a factory and live in a tiny hotel room. When my mother had cancer that sister flew out to be with us. When's my aunt's daughter married, my father walked with her down the isle. I was a flower girl. We are intertwined. We breathe for each other. a blow to one is a blow to all.
Right speech is asking for help, sharing the sadness as well as the joy, and knowing this enterprise called life is a joint effort.
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