You're Elected to Call

Five years ago I suffered the biggest loss of my life—my mom died. Somehow I functioned through the necessary tasks involved with the packing up, travel arrangements, burial and even a four year old’s birthday party the next day at Chuck E. Cheese. What I remember the most was the silence of the empty days when I was alone. Days when I longed for just one phone call from a friend. They didn’t have to have any answers or great wisdom or abilities to take my pain away. That wasn’t possible. I just needed them to call. Some did. Many didn’t. The cards helped and I cherish them today. But what my soul really longed for was a voice. People often say they don’t call friends who have suffered a death because they don’t know what to say. I can relate to that. My neighbor committed suicide a few years ago and although her husband and two children lived only four houses down from me I never knocked on their door. I told myself it was because I didn’t want them to think people were gossiping about the way she died, or make them uncomfortable about the fact we knew it was suicide. But really—I was taking the easy way out. Until last summer. The family held a garage sale and I walked right up to her beautiful fourteen year old daughter sitting by a coffee can of change and wrapped my arms around her and told her how much I appreciated her mother. How if it wasn’t for her mom I wouldn’t have any teeth (she was my dental hygienist sometimes). It felt so good to finally say it.

Which brings me to this election. Millions of Americans got their way. Millions didn’t. What group are you in? For me it was a great loss. The death of a dream in a way. I have friends who no doubt were joyful and jubilant over the outcome. They received good news. I received a knock out blow. Even though my Obama friends knew I had to be in terrible pain last Wednesday they never called. Maybe they think I should have called them with my congratulations—like the losing team of a tennis match. Except-- this is not a game. This is life and death. My mind can’t help going to the story of two mothers of very ill children in a hospital featured in a magazine recently. Both children needed a heart transplant but only one was available. The surgery team had to choose which child got to receive it. They made their decision. One set of parents got wonderful news—their child would live. One set of parents got devastating news—their child would die. Should the parents of the child who was chosen for the transplant skip out of the hospital and go celebrate without a thought or a word to the other family?

I know there are people who still say they don’t know what to say to a friend who is suffering from these election results. Well, let me help you. How about this:

“I’m so sorry you’re hurting. Hang in there.”

There. Was that so hard? Oh, and keep the script. Your day will come too you know. And I’ll be there for you.