Words Matter -- This time, in a good way

At one point in all of our lives, we've been told by our parents, teachers, clergy, and others, that words matter. It's usually in the aftermath of something horrific happening as a result of throwing insults at or bullying others.

But this morning my husband handed his phone to me so I could read an email that had been sent to him by an old high school friend; someone with whom we haven't been in touch in many years. The email was actually intended for me, but she didn't have my contact information - so she went through my husband in hopes of reaching me.

There is no need for me to go into her exact words, but please know that she inspired me to be all I could be today. Her words made all the difference in the world to me -- today. 

Those of you who know me, also know that I lost my sister nearly a year ago. Facebook reminds me of this everyday, while it automatically shows me photos I posted of her during the month of her sudden illness. And you also know that I fall into slumps because of my 'aloneness' since she's been gone.

I can't say that our friend's words pulled me out of my "slump," but I can say that sometimes -- when you least expect it -- there's someone who comes out of nowhere and has a positive influence on your day. Maybe even without meaning to or even knowing.

This is a particularly hard week. On the 23rd, it will be a year since I watched my sister open her eyes for the last time and take her last breath. It will be a year since I've seen her beautiful smile and heard her soft and calming voice.

Locally, everyone sees me out and about, putting on the happy face they all expect to see. It would probably be very shocking for them to learn where I am in my head most of the time. Most people put a time limit on grief and the sadness that ensues after the loss of a loved one. Most people see themselves as helping by avoiding the topic. Most people don't really know or want to know how to help.

The truth is that in this mature adult life I am now living, I have learned how to cocoon myself in order to hide what I'm going through. And in that cocoon, I try to think away the pain. By that I mean that I keep myself busy -- usually in my craft studio. I know that's unhealthy, but to be honest, I'm afraid that if I allow myself to breakdown, I'll be forever broken. 

I'm lonely and I'm heartbroken, but I'm also very angry about her death. I blame this country's failing healthcare system; a system that doesn't really care about the health of the people paying into it, but rather it cares only about its profits.

I'd rather be numb. I wish I could be numb.

I miss my big sister. Without her, I feel like a bird whose wings have been clipped. She was my best friend, and like my mother, she was on the Sydney cheerleading squad. When those positive voices leave your life, your soul becomes empty.

This morning, my friend's words lifted me and reminded me of things my sister used to say to me. My friend didn't know my sister, didn't know about my loss, didn't know anything -- and still doesn't. She felt compelled to reach out to me for other reasons, and her words motivated me to "do wonders and eat green cucumbers" (as my mother used to say). 

I did cocoon myself today, but also completed quite a few projects. I know I'll be in my cocoon for the next few weeks. So, if any of you reading this are local friends, please know that if I don't seem to be "myself" for a few days -- I really am.