From A Child's Heart

 

 

 

I was browsing through two of my Letitia Baldrige books on manners while writing and posting last week about her recent death and came upon a very touching chapter she wrote on how a child learns to communicate a kind thought.

I was immediately drawn into the chapter because in today's world, it is a bit unusual to come across a child of any age who says "please" and "thank you" all on their own.

In Baldrige's book, "More Than Manners! Raising Today's Kids to Have Kind Manners & Good Hearts," she discusses the need to teach young boys and girls how to write a thank you note or at the very least, a thank you email.  Of course, she says, the children will complain and won't want to do it, but still it's important to teach them how to communicate with others and learn how to put their thoughts into words.

 

Also, most children love to receive mail that is delivered to their house and writing a note shows them that they can learn to give of themselves as well as receive from others.

Thank you notes and letters to Santa Claus are the most common type of correspondence a child will engage in but there are also other kinds of letters a child might write.  Specifically, Baldrige says, she has seen letters of condolence from children that are truly special!

My mother taught me in elementary school how to go up to someone at a funeral or a wake and sincerely say "I am sorry for your loss" but I don't think I could have written a note.  Especially to a friend or playmate my age.

 

But the secret is to speak from the heart.

 

I will now quote directly from Baldrige's book because her words are perfect and this child's letter really touched me deeply:

"I have seen many unforgettable written communications children have sent other children.  They have an impact that reaches far beyond the person who opens the envelope.  One letter of condolence written truly from the heart was composed by an eleven-year-old girl with a mild case of dyslexia.  She wrote to her best friend, the daughter of a lawyer friend of mine, on the occasion of the lawyer's wife's death.  Not only did he borrow that letter from his daughter to show to his family and all the neighbors, but he sent copies to all of his friends, and showed it to all of his close business associates.  He gave it to me to read at the beginning of a seminar in New York.  The young girl had written to his daughter:

Dear Maureen,

I'm very sorry to hear that your Mom dyed yesterday.  I know she ment lots to you, and you meant lots to her.  Your're rite, she was a very spesial Mom.  She was so nice to us kids, even when we ate her kake when she said not to.  No one made choclat kake like her.  You must be fealing sad.  Some day you'll see her again in heven.  She must have lots of friends up there.  (I hope she won't have to make too many kakes.)  When can you come over to play? I bot a new game, really neet.  Come over this wekend.  I dont want you and your Dad to fel sad."

Oh my goodness!  Is that not the sweetest letter ever?

I had to share it with you...this child's wisdom and ability to express emotion blew me away.

Love Links

In my purse I carry a post card that my husband sent to one of his oldest friends many years ago when we were on one of our annual family vacations at Bethany Beach.  He wrote some silly note about the beach, the kind of message that someone writes when they know everyone at the post office will read it before it reaches the people it is addressed to.

The friend's wife gave the postcard back to me after my husbad died and for some reason, just having that post card in my purse makes me feel connected to him.  Or maybe it serves more as a touchstone, allowing me to remember a wonderful memory.  If I am stuck on the Metro or have to wait in line somewhere and I have forgotten to bring a book or a newspaper to read, sometimes I will briefly pull out the post card to read it and look at his handwriting.  It makes me smile.  It doesn't make me sad.  I think it's because the message he wrote reflected his wry sense of humor and his outlook on life.  It's just so him.

I have questioned whether it is a healthy thing for me to carry this postcard around.  Am I being weird by looking at it from time to time?  Is it obsessive? I don't think it is, but I'm not sure.  It doesn't feel weird.  I think it would be dysfunctional if I denied to myself that he was dead and read the postcard several times a day, every day without fail.  But I don't read it every day and sometimes I honestly forget it's in my purse because there's so much other stuff in there too.  The memory of my husband and those wonderful times at the beach are just that, memories, and they don't hold me back from living my life and going forward.

An article I read recently refers to momentos such as my postcard as "links" or "likages" to our loved ones.  These links can be small everyday items that the person used or it can also be a piece of jewelry that the person once wore that you now choose to wear.

I think the idea of keeping or wearing items that remind you of your loved one can be healing and sometimes help you move through your pain and back into your daily life.  In trying to find new opportunities, you can gain inner strength and recover from your loss.  Every day I feel that I am rebuilding a new life because I need to -- for myself and for my son.  I look at the postcard as a positive reminder of the time we had together; not a maudlin reminder of a loved one who is no longer with me.

What do you think of keeping a loved one's momentos?  What has been your experience?

Sympathy Cards

I recently needed to send a sympathy card to a good friend and found myself in the confusing state of not knowing what to say.  Really, I didn't.  It was a struggle to get my thoughts on paper.

I opened the card and started to write and stopped.  Maybe I was overthinking what to say, but everything I came up with sounded so trite.  Of course, I was sorry and very sad about the person's death but the words that I thought would be appropriate just didn't seem to send the message I wanted.  "Sorry" just didn't seem to cut it.  Not when I knew how much the other person was hurting and how difficult it was going to be to adjust to this loss.

If I could have, I would have drawn a picture of the person's broken heart with my arms around it.  There truly are circumstances when words don't seem deep enough, warm enough or comforting enough to use. 

I decided to refer to a book I use at work for business correspondence called, "Great Letters for Every Occasion."   It's written by Rosalie Maggio and I use it because I like her down-to-earth approach to correspondence.  This time I turned to her chapter on Sympathy and Condolence letters and found some helpful guidance on what to say and what not to say.

In trying to offer support to a bereaved person, I think both parties are at a strong disadvantage.  The person offering comfort is afraid they are going to upset the bereaved person and the bereaved person is shocked and emotionally exhausted.  It's a tricky area.  Even so, I can't imagine that people say some of the things that Maggio cites as comments you should AVOID saying.  Here's a few:

-- Keep busy, you'll forget.
-- Be thankful you have another child.
-- Be happy for what you had.
-- You'll get over it.
-- She is out of her misery at least.
-- I heard you're not taking it well.

Maggio also says that you shouldn't rely on well-meaning but hurtful cliches, false cheerfulness and optimistic platitudes.  If you're not sure what any of those things are to avoid, Maggio is specific:

--In a Reader's Digest article, "An Etiquette for Grief," Crystal Gromer says, "In the context of grief, cliches are simply bad manners. . . . 'At least he didn't suffer,' people say. 'At least he's not a vegetable.'  Any time you hear 'at least' come out of your mouth, stop.

--Creating an imaginary worse scenario doesn't make the real and current one better.  It trivializes it.  Lynn Caine (Widow) wrote, "It infuriated me to have people say, 'I know you'll be feeling better soon.'  I wanted people to sympathize with how terrible I felt then and there.

--Lynn Caine says most of the condolence letters she received were more about the writer's awkwardness, discomfort and inadequacies than about her sorrow or their shared loss.  There is a fine line between expressing your sorrow and dramatizing your own reactions, Caine adds.

Instead, Maggio offers suggestions on what is helpful to say:

--My heart goes out to you as you grieve the loss of your (insert the person's relationship to bereaved)

--I send you my deepest sympathy on (insert the person's name)

--It was with a profound sense of loss that I learned of (insert the person's name)'s death.

--We are all grieving with and for you.

--You have our deepest sympathy and our love and friendship always.

Even though it may be one of the hardest notes to write, don't ever under estimate the power of sending sympathy whether it's a card or a letter.  It is always welcome.