My mom always bought a Nut Goodie candy bar to have with a cup of coffee while waiting for me to get out of surgery. Because, as she said, “There was no need for us both to suffer.” 

I was just coming out of the anesthesia. Foggy, uncertain, a little scared, all I wanted was my mom. For her to tell me everything would be ok. My eyes were trying to blink her into focus. Then I felt her hand on my shoulder. I knew she would lean in and say something important. Something to tell me that I was fine. Something to tell me I was safe and loved. She leaned in close. I could feel her breath. My lips couldn’t yet form a smile, but my heart knew there was no need for her to lean in close — she had never mastered the whisper. She breathed in deeply and said, “Somebody stole my Nut Goodie.” And I was saved.  

We often think we don’t know what to say when someone is suffering. We don’t know “the right thing.” So we just stay quiet. The thing is, all we have to do is be there for each other. Be close and be kind. My friend’s father recently passed away. In all of my words, words that I type daily, say daily, paint daily, I’m pretty sure I don’t have the right ones. Not the words to take away the pain. No one does. So I tell her about the vegetables I cooked outside on the plancha for lunch. The podcast I listened to while walking. The pants I want to buy, but can’t afford. I give to her my “Nut Goodie.” I think she’ll find the love in that. I hope so. I always did.