Just Say Something

by Troy Foster

In a nutshell, that’s my advice to any of you that have a loved one (friend or family member) that is hurting.  It sounds like common sense, but you would be surprised.  Along with my experiences, two friends going through their own junk drove this point home this week.

Think about it.  None of us want to see someone that we care about enduring pain – physical or emotional.  Most of us want to make it better.  And know that we can’t.  Most people want to say something, but are petrified that they will say the wrong thing.  That their words will be inadequate, taken the wrong way, or seem cliché or trivial.  And some people (more than you might think) feel so uncomfortable with the depth of the issue, they avoid you altogether.  Until you are all better.  They’ll self-justify.  You are strong.  You’ll make it just fine; he/she doesn’t need my help and they don’t need a distraction.

From our own experience, I can relate that it is all misguided.  When we found out that Henry had mitochondrial disease and learned that it was degenerative, the silence was deafening.  Friends that we had known for years – some that we hung out with regularly – had no reaction.  Said absolutely nothing. 

And some, many fewer, but quite a few were no longer in our lives.  It was gradual.  No more invites out from couples.  No more play dates with the kids’ friends.  No more phone calls from some friends that would call regularly.  We had made concerted efforts not to talk about Henry, his condition, or our feelings in social settings – so, I knew it wasn’t that we were bringing down the party spirits.  Now, I’m not that fun in the first place – so maybe it was coincidentally when that was discovered.  But in all seriousness, even though we didn’t say anything, some people were reminded of this uncomfortable subject by our presence.  I’ve since read about this, and how it happens subconsciously with many folks.  And, I get it.

But, it’s still lonely.  When we found out that our older son had the same disease as Henry, our reach of friends was substantially less.  Safe to say that many “close” friends three years ago may not even know about Luke’s diagnosis.  For the avoiders, our friendship probably wasn’t a good match.  And, we have been brought into circles of different folks that aren’t afraid that our sons are sick.

For those that don’t avoid, there is hope.  Say something.  Anything to your friend or loved one that is hurting.  Your fears that it will be inadequate and won’t make things better are probably right on some level.  Your words will not, in all likelihood, erode the pain.  But, the very fact that you said anything – however inartful – means so much.  It says that you are thinking of them.  You are on their team.  They have someone there – no matter what happens.  It can mean all the difference in the world.

I’ll end with a quick example that happened this week.  In the ups and downs that we all have, this week I’ve been a little down.  Worried about little Henry.  Concerned about what will happen.  Wondering if I’m doing enough – for him and the rest of the family.  It’s all natural, and I’m not beating myself up for having those feelings.  Sucks, but it is what it is.  I don’t talk about it much (outside of my therapist – who makes every dime I pay her).  But a friend said to me, completely unsolicited, “you are a good dad.”  The same friend will randomly ask me how I am, or tell me that he admires my strength.  And another friend, who is less comfortable saying things so directly, tell me the most random stupid stories when I’m down.  I know what he’s doing.

Saying something means so much.  Don’t worry about what you’re saying or how effective you think it will be.  Just say something.  It will mean so much.