Abstract
What do you say? (what's the right thing to say?)
When the body betrays
And the treatments to heal, hurt.
And sometimes don't work.
When a mother, daughter, wife, and friend is so lonely.
And a family mourns in anticipation.
When a runner may never walk again
And a traveler feels trapped in his wheelchair.
While a young man slowly wastes away,
Quietly wondering which will fail first,
His body or his hope.
What do you say (what's the right thing to say?)
When you're new to the field and you're learning.
When you imagine the grief and the pain and the fear and frustration.
When you just want to help, so desperately, help.
What do you say (what's the right thing to say?)
When your own insecurities must stay locked inside
While you, the helper, feel helpless.
There is one thing I've learned
In witnessing this ache,
In sharing this space.
It is that sometimes,
There is no right thing to say.
And sometimes,
not saying,
just being,
is enough.
