Words

I’ve written a ton of stories for my blog.  I’ve written more than I thought I’d write starting out, but I really didn’t have a plan in the beginning, so perhaps I’m right on track.  I promised to tell the truth as I remember it, and I’ve followed that pledge. I’m a what you see is what you get writer.

I’ve never been an avid reader.  My son David is and his mom was.  David reads all the time because he’s looking for his next big idea. He wants to grow his professional arsenal and has done a wonderful job.  He has a huge pile of books near his bed and a second on a table near his favorite chair.  He’s a non-fiction guy most of the time but has read all the Harry Potter books and enjoys the magic of fantasy.  The words he writes for work are non-fiction.  They’re based on his personal history and set of professional beliefs.

Ruth was into history.  She read both fiction and non-fiction but mostly non-fiction. She marked up her books and made short entries into her journals about her findings.  Sometimes she’d tell me some of the horrors that one group of people inflicted upon another.  Upon occasion those revelations led to tears.  We were both appalled by the idea that one group could be so cruel to another.  She did the reading and retelling.  I did the listening.  We shared our tears.

Elizabeth is a reader and a writer.  As far as I know she doesn’t read as much as David but I’m sure she writes as much as me.  She just doesn’t share it all.  She’s more selective that way.  Her expertise as a grief therapist has grown as her personal history has evolved.

Michael’s never been a big reader, or writer, for pleasure but he does a bunch of both for work.  He’s written piles of operational manuals and guidelines for the restaurant industry.  It’s not fancy but it’s critical for the continued success of those he works for as well as his personal growth.

I’ve been planning for Christmas and read some cards from Christmas’s past. Ruth kept everything we received from the kids and I’ve continued.  All of them have written notes from time to time.  Lindsay’s the best in that regard.  She’s thanked us for everything and now just me since Ruth’s been gone.  She’s a gracious giver and receiver.  That’s one of the things I’ve learned more about since being in my Singles New Beginnings class.  It’s important to be both.

I got a suspicious “possible spam call” on my phone the other day, so I didn’t answer it.  I let it go to voicemail.  Later, I logged in to listen.  I had a single new message and after listening to that I listened to the calls I’ve saved over the years.  There aren’t many, but the ones that are there are there on purpose.  I know I originally saved several others but have inadvertently deleted them over the past few years.  I liked the messages and enjoyed listening to words that my kids left for me to hear.

Ironically, I never saved any that Ruth left for me.  Most of the ones I do have are from Michael and Elizabeth.  I think that’s why I’ve kept Ruth’s cell phone account going.  A couple of times a year I call her number to hear her voice.  You know, on our anniversary and around the holidays. Like now. Her words aren’t special but hearing her voice is.  That’s one of the reasons I recorded my book and posted some audio stories on my blog site.  I think one day my kids and grandkids will miss my voice and want to hear my words.

Authors, journalists, screenwriters, speechwriters, poets, lyricists and bloggers use words every day.  Words can make us think until our heads hurt.  They can entertain us, help us gather information and make us laugh or cry.  Some are hurtful. Some bring us joy. They can help us look forward to tomorrow or make us wish it never came.

I don’t claim to be the most eloquent writer to place words on a page, but I think our words do matter.  What you say and how you say it can have an impact on people. A lack of words can too.

Words can trace a lifetime. It doesn’t matter if they’re spoken or written, as long as they’re saved and remembered. Even the small things—Christmas cards tucked away, voicemails saved for years, the sound of a voice on the other end of a phone line—become reminders that words are more than communication. They’re connection. They’re the threads that tie people together long after the moment has passed.

They comfort, teach, wound, heal, and preserve the people we love. Whether written in a memoir, spoken in a voicemail, or shared in a blog post, words tell the tale of who we are. They remind us that even ordinary sentences can carry extraordinary meaning.

Please share yours with those you love.