So, I picked up a book at the airport on the flight home from my Uncle Sandy's funeral called "How to Talk to a Widower." Probably a bad choice, but it happened. And, I've been reading the book while working out. And, there have been some comforting instructions. Like, it's okay to not know how to respond to the comment of "I'm so sorry for your loss." Like the widower says, "what, are you suppose to say 'thanks?' That just doesn't seem right. It's like you're thanking them."
I'm not sure if it's profitable to put my feelings out here, mainly because I really wonder if people care about others. I'm not trying to sound cynical, but really...when you ask others how they're doing, do you really care to hear if the answer is "not so good." And, if you do entertain those comments, then it's only a few sentences into the explanation before you're thinking about your "to do" list or what you're having for dinner or "did I remember to turn the coffee pot off this morning?" You get caught up in your own worlds too often and forget that everyone we meet is fighting some kind of battle. (And, I say "you" because it's easier to make the accusation than to make it personal--but all of those "yous" above are really "I" or "me.") It's not always great or good or, even, okay. Sometimes it's just rough.
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