Sorry

As any parent does, I spend what seems like a lot of time trying to instill in my children the kind of manners and etiquette that will allow them to go through life with social grace.  I want them to be strong and able to speak up for themselves, but I also want them to consider how their actions and words affect those around them.  We even bought a cute card game, Polite Pigs, at Sterling & Co. that lays down the rules of manners:  If you want to use something that belongs to someone else, say please.  If you need someone to step aside so you can pass through, say excuse me.  If you hurt someone, say I’m sorry.

What is harder to teach and harder to learn is what to say when we did not cause the harm or get in the way, but someone else’s life starts going horribly awry before our eyes.  In the last year I have found myself wishing for a set of rules, or even a cute card game, to teach me how to react when I learn that someone’s husband has left or they can’t seem to make a baby or they find out they have a disease that is going to change the way they live for the rest of their lives.  I find myself repeating I’m sorry at these times, finding the words lacking, their sentiment not quite reaching out to say what I really feel.  Social boundaries keep me from saying a lot of what comes to mind in these situations; unless the person in question is one of my best friends I can’t stamp my feet and cry with them and declare the universe an unfair and unjust place.  I can’t scream and wail in anguish over the fact that the path they worked so hard to be on has just been ripped out from beneath them and replaced with a new one that is not so shiny and pretty, but filled with potholes and despair.  Social grace allows us to only go so far: I am sorry for your loss.  I am sorry for your diagnosis.  I am sorry that you are going through this.  I am sorry that there is nothing I can do, no real change I can make to better your situation. 

But I am here for you and I am so, so sorry. 

I wonder how we teach our children that which we do not know ourselves. 

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Eight weeks and one day behind for the Madhouse – I have some serious catching up to do.