You Did

During the times when friends and acquaintances are struck by sorrow and heartache, the art of comforting them is a delicate and varying skill. Sometimes the wrong words are exchanged, and it stings. In vocal communication, the awkwardness is obvious. In text, the unnoticed sting can fester into resentment. "You're hurting me. Stop." I'm fairly awful at comforting. Most times, I am reduced to silence and a hug, simple words issued as an excuse, "I don't know what so say" or "I had no idea." It's not asking for an explanation, but assuring them they are not alone for this moment. The visible reaction is important too. If someone is in need, or crying, they don't want the added burden of stopping to relieve their friends of having to see their exposure, forcing their emotions away for the moment in order to appease the norm of social conventions.

The sting still festers in me, the resentment at ill-comfort, even after the irritant has been relieved. "I don't want to loose you." "I really care about you." "What happened?" "You did." I remember those moments, where I was, my emotions, my surroundings. It's not something I dwell on often, but the present has resurrected many things to dwell on. I was loosed. No, you don't. I got hurt. Ow. It's also easy to remember the times where I failed in comforting. I'm sorry. I let you down. I was your friend, but I could not be there in your time of need. Those hurt too.