Sometimes, our words are all we have to give

An old friend called the other night. We hadn't talked for a while, so we spent a few minutes catching up on each other's lives - his job, my job; his house, my house; our mutual friends; etc. Then he broke the news: "Dad's dying."

"His" dad, but a person who had been very special to me. A soft-spoken, gentle, loving man who sought to bring into this world as much healing, and as little pain, as possible.

I don't know that anybody deserves to die; but he certainly doesn't. We need more people like him. We all - each and every one of us - have lost a little when he dies.

For all my training as a minister and psychotherapist, there wasn't much I could say. That's hard for me. I always feel like I should be able to say something that will "make it better," ease the pain, smooth the way. Yet nothing came to mind that was going to in any way change the reality that my friend's father was dying.

As the conversation turned to other matters, I kept coming back to my need to say something. Finally, I simply shared this dilemma with my friend. And, in doing so, I found the words I needed to speak.

"I feel your pain" (and frustration and fear and anger and depression and all the mixed feelings that go along with the loss of a loved one).

"I care" (you are a special person to me; I am concerned about how you are doing).

"I'm here" (I don't know if there is anything I can do to help, but I want to; lean on me when you need somebody).

My words did not heal his father. Nor did they take away my friend's pain. And they won't make the coming days and weeks any smoother.

But they were all I had to give. I think he knew that. I think they helped.

"I feel …, I care …, I'm here …" - a few words that, perhaps, say a lot.

• Dr. Ken Potts is on the staff of Samaritan Counseling Center in Naperville and Downers Grove. He is the author of "Mix Don't Blend, A Guide to Dating, Engagement and Remarriage With Children."