Sometimes there are no "right words"

I just finished reading a friend's blog about a tough event in their life. I know death is part of life, but that doesn't make it any easier. I have been around my share of losing friends and loved ones, and people always search for the right words, the right card, the right way to help.
I would give anything to be that type of person, the type of person who found the words that could help another person with grief, that could help a person deal with the powerful emotions that come with realizing a friend or family member...or even an enemy...is no longer available.
A lot of things are temporary. Hurtful words can be repaired. A dented car, a broken window, a lost job...these are things that pass. New opportunities arise. Several times I have seen the illustration of someone looking at a newspaper from a year ago and being shocked at how different the "crisis" in their life is from the unavoidable, unovercomable crisis a year ago.
Losing someone to death is different. There is no coming back, there is no one more chance to talk or to share or to laugh together. I still miss Mom and Grandpa and it has been a decade. I would give anything for one more hour in the woodshop with Grandpa, to have Mom playing the piano and saying "Jjjjjjjoooooooooooooeeeeeeeeeeyyyyyyyyyyy" when the wind blew the leaves around while the Little Rascals were trying to put on the Uncle Tom's Cabin play.
I think back at how shallow I was sometimes towards her...one particular memory has haunted me for years. Towards the end, maybe 2 years before she died she made an announcement at Church...or maybe a prayer request, it really does not matter. Anyway, the way she tilted her head and shrugged just bugged me for no valid reason. I never said it out loud, but I remember thinking how she silly must look to other people.
Of course, she was losing the battle with the cancer that would eventually take her life, she was in constant pain, constant worry over finances, etc...and still she was so helpful to the other church members that no doubt not one of them noticed.
To this day it hurts that I remember that, because I can never undo that moment. But what I can do is take that moment and use it to make myself a better person. I can be less critical and more caring. And I can learn to keep my mouth shut when it isn't appropriate.
I remember at her funeral incidents with four people. Three of them I will share here because...I don't know, I guess it feels right.
One of my closest friends, someone I had known his entire life, and I were standing on the bridge and talking about the garden and how beautiful it was and how we would like to get one later...and he suddenly jost lost it. I mean crying like I have seldom seen anyone cry. Yeah, I admit it, we had a hug, a long one. And it still hurts that I had no words of comfort. To be honest, my eyes are watering a bit right now. But no words were exchanged, he went to join his family.
I went to find another close, close friend. When he got the call at 10:30 at night that Mom had died he took the next day off to provide support for me. I will never forget that. I looked around and finally found him. He was in a far corner of the parking lot by himself and he was hurting very badly. He too cried in a way I had never seen before and have never seen from him since even though our friendship spans 22 years and a lot of heartaches.
He said, "Why did she have to go so young?" and then "I guess we know we just have to live fast because you never know."
That still seems so empty and hollow. Again...I would give 20 years of my life to have the right words to answer him. I would give anything to comfort my friends. But I did not have those words.
But perhaps the hardest moment of my life to that point was Grandpa Warren.
He was a harsh, bitter, petty man. Oh, he was a success in the business world. Without him the piers would be very different and Portland housing would too. Financially he did very, very well. But as a family man? He was terrible. My Dad, one of the most fogiving people I have ever observed, could not even get along with him. His ex-wives hated him. Few of his children showed up for his funeral.
I walked up behind him as he was standing at the casket looking at Mom for several minutes. Finally he said the only thing he could say. "Goodbye, Paralee."
And for him, it was. It was final, it was over. That was the meaning of life. And I had no answer. Here was my blood relative and I had nothing to say to him. I could not comfort him, I could not commiserate, I could not...I couldn't do anything.
There have been other times, of course, but those really stand out as times I wish I had the right words to say. I wish I were smarter and kinder and more compassionate. I wish I could heal the wounds.
I can't. But maybe, just maybe, I can live my life in such a way that I can leave people thinking more of the good times they shared with me than the times that were not so good, and then no words will need to be said.
I grieve for her loss and pray that she has peace. And I encourage all of us...anytime we might say a sharp word or an angry word or a hurtful word, anytime we choose television over time with friends and loved ones, anytime we let politics or religion or economic status or where we are going to eat that night come between us, remember...those things are transient. Words can fix those. So fix them while we can because for all of us there is a time when there are no right words. And we want it to be wordless for joy at the times we shared.