Is it just me, or does anyone else have a problem with mass-market sympathy cards?
Because I had a problem last night. I was browsing (i.e., trying not to have a meltdown) in the "Sympathy / Cheer" section of the card aisle in the grocery store, with "Jingle Bell Rock" blasting on the speaker system. (By the way, why is that necessary? After two or three weeks, the nonstop Christmas carols can be an affront to anyone who's not able to have "the most wonderful time of the year"—in other words, plenty of people.)
I was looking for three cards: one for a relative who lost her husband suddenly a few months ago and is still hurting, one for my mom after her second major surgery in three weeks, and one for my best friend, who just got some horrible news yesterday.
I want to rant and rave on these people's behalf. I want to hug them very tight. But there's no card that conveys those feelings in the card aisle at Giant.
What I want to know is why sympathy messages have to be totally stiff:
With heartfelt condolences.
Because nothing says "heartfelt" like formal words that no-one uses in daily speech.
May you be surrounded by comfort and love at this difficult time.
OK, clearly illness and death are serious. We want to honor the gravity of what's happened. But with language straight out of a legal contract, with the "I" and "you" and therefore the relationship removed, what's left feels so distant. I wonder how much of the formality comes from respect and how much comes from avoidance of anything awkward or sad.
On the giving side, these cards don't feel authentic. On the receiving side, I question how comforting they are, too. When someone wishes you to "be surrounded by comfort and love" when you're not, does it feel as presumptuous as hearing "Have a Holly Jolly Christmas" felt to me last night?
Of course, I can and will add a personal note to each card. The most formal cards are probably intended more for people who don't know the recipient well, so I guess they'll always have their place.
It would just be nice to have a few more options with less flowery wording and more real emotion involved. Maybe we could call them
TOTALLY AGREE WITH YOU!! <-- yep, I'm being shoutily emphatic. I've thought about making empathy cards too. Those Hallmark things just don't cut it.
ReplyDeleteThe only time I have received such cards was when my father died. I honestly don't remember the words of any card. It was the one time in my life when the thought behind the action meant the most. Whether it was a plant or a card the fact that people let me know they cared was touching and the words didn't matter, at all, honestly. The cards could have been completely blank but for the name of the sender and it would have meant the same.
ReplyDeleteNot that I disagree with your sentiment. I am sure there are others for whom the words do matter, but for me, at that time, it really was about nothing more than knowing that my loss, that my father's life mattered to someone. Regardless of their words.
Sympathy cards are the worst. If I ever see one that I actually think is nice, I buy it for later, just to have one on hand. My husband thinks it's morbid to buy them for something that hasn't even happened yet, but I refuse to send a stiff sympathy card to someone I care about.
ReplyDeleteAlthough, I do think FormerlyMMM is right. When people are really grieving, I'm sure they pay little attention to the pre-printed words, and instead just notice who sent a card.
I agree—when someone takes the time to send me a card, I tend to remember their kindness much more than the actual words.
ReplyDeleteSo maybe my comment about some of the words feeling presumptuous … was presumptuous (a reflection of my own mood last night).
Maybe it was the mood, or the bland selection of cards in that one store, but they just turned me off. I ended up getting one that was blank and writing my own message—prettier than a letter on stationery, but more personal than the pre-printed stuff.
Yes! Empathy cards!! Sign me up for that etsy shop.
ReplyDeleteI do agree that the gesture is more important than the words (because let's face it, in some of life's shittier situations there are no words that will make it better, and it would be trite to suggest otherwise). After my losses, I was hurt far more by those who just kept quiet to avoid saying 'the wrong thing' than those who risked stumbling through an awkward moment to offer me comfort and their thoughts.
Saying that though, I think you make a really important point about the passive voice, because I suspect this is how our culture wants to keep the relationship to death (or struggle or grieving of any kind really); it's mostly much easier to see it as external to us, to not put ourselves in that difficult place of presence and abiding. I suspect a lot of us like to assume that someone else is providing the comfort and that a card is enough (or all we can offer), or that 'they need their space'. It sucks that we live in such an emotionally lazy world, and that there are entire industries built around facilitating that mindset. But then, I feel I've gotten so much better at death in the last three years. I wish it didn't take the kind of grief I've known, but I'm grateful for the increased empathy and compassion that has blossomed in the absence of my babies.