When people I love are grieving, or having troubles of any kind, or are feeling ill, I’m not very good with words.  I want to just go over there, and do their laundry and cook for them and pack their children’s lunches and set their table with pretty dishes and a candle and scrub their bathtubs and and empty the cat litter and grocery-shop for them.  I want to DO for them.  I want to not disturb them, and to not intrude, and to not make them feel they have to make conversation or be a host. <–split infinitives 

 

 I want to hug them and let them know someone cares.  And then I want to get in there and show them how much.  <–fragment

 

But the words?  <–fragment  I try, but what comes out is often not unlike some cheesy Hallmark card or the irrational cliches of a moronic person who feels too deeply to be coherent or even rational.  I do not want a sorrowing person to feel they need to pat ME on the back, and assure me that it will be all right.  I’m supposed to be doing that for them.

 

In many ways, I’m good with words.  I make my living with words.  I love words.  I love to write stories, and poems, and essays, and articles.  <– incorrect comma usage  And blog posts.  <–Fragment. 

 

But finding the right words to comfort someone I love? <–fragment   I turn into a slobbering, stuttering echo chamber of idioms, cliches, and unintentional* sentence fragments.

 

Right now, there are several beloved people out there who are going through some pretty hard times.  I’m sorry.  If I could, I would come over and do for you.

 

I would lift all the household burdens off you.  It’s my way of condoling.

 

I figure, you’ll get enough cards and flowers and fruit baskets, but some baskets of clean folded clothes and a few meals are something you might actually use. That’s just how I think.

 

Since I can’t do what I really want to do, I’ll just say this:  I’m so sorry.  God bless you.

 

And maybe throw something in the mail. <–fragment

 

 

 

*I use intentional sentence fragments for effect.  On purpose.  <—there’s one now.

 

This blog post has been graded.  Any “mistakes” were intentional.  You see, <–parenthetical expression   sometimes the conventions of writing are suspended, that a person might express himself/herself as the heart dictates.