I’ve been on both sides of this.
I've been the person falling apart — watching the people who love me go quiet because they didn't know what to say. And I love them for trying, even in the silence. But in those moments? That silence was its own kind of hurt.
And I've been the person on the sidelines. Watching someone I love go through something devastating and freezing up completely. Typing and deleting. Driving past their house and not stopping. Telling myself I'd reach out when I had the right words.
Spoiler: the right words never came.
Here's what I know now that I wish someone had told me sooner — the people who showed up for me in my hardest seasons didn't say anything profound. They said I don't know what to say but I'm here. They said I've been thinking about you. They said I made you a casserole and I'm leaving it on your porch because I didn't know what else to do.
It wasn’t perfect. It was everything.
Sometimes showing up doesn't even look like showing up. It looks like coming over and watching whatever Bravo has going on without saying a word about any of it. It looks like sitting in the same room and scrolling your phones in comfortable silence. It looks like "I'm not going to ask how you're doing — I'm just going to be here." That is showing up. That counts.
When someone you love is grieving, caregiving, drowning in the squeeze — they are not expecting you to fix it. They are not expecting the perfect words. They just need to know they haven't disappeared from your world while their own world is falling apart.
So if you've been waiting until you know what to say — this is your sign. Text them right now. It doesn't have to be eloquent. It doesn't have to be long.
I’ve been thinking about you.
That's enough. That's more than enough. That's everything.
You don't have to say the perfect thing. You just have to say something.
You found your people.
Welcome home.
— Melissa