There are times (too many for me) when a person you love is not right there and all you have are words. For someone that blogs you’d think that was fine, but my language of love is touch. When I need to communicate how I much I love someone I want to hug them; I want to fold them in my arms and let them feel my love flow from the contact; I want to absorb all their pain and sorrow and wrap them in the well of my love.
I have a close friend whose mother’s funeral is today. I didn’t know their mother and I don’t live nearby, so I am not going to the funeral. Like many people their life has been filled with other tribulations, but there was a special bond between them and their mother. I have spoken what seem like sage words when I can, but that does not remove the genuinely gut wrenching feeling I have for not being able to hug them to protect them from “the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune”.
I had hoped that writing these words might be a balm to the feeling of frustration I have at not being there to say, “I care” in the way I speak. Instead I find myself crying and wondering if the presence of my spirit will be enough.
I had hoped to find a million words but my true language is not that. You can only hope that your feelings survive the “Google translate” function; especially when you know their language of love is not words. And these words seem doubly hollow because they don’t even know I write this blog. Now I’m rambling to fill up the page when all I feel is the desperate urge to give them a hug.
Postscript: It’s a few hours after I wrote this post and I can still feel the emotional drain it has taken to put into words what I hope I could communicate in seconds with a hug, or a touch to the face and the look in my eyes. Perhaps at so many other times in our lives we don’t appreciate how much it takes the person to try and talk in an awkward ‘unnatural’ language. But they are prepared to do it because they think you are worth it.