Sticks and Stones

Sticks and stones…They were wrong, words do hurt….


Today I went to pay bills and my computer needed to be restarted. It had erased a password to sign in and pay the water bill. I knew I had it written down somewhere but, of course, my life has been tuned upside-down for the past 10 months and things are not organized like they should be. Whatever. So I started rustling through paperwork in the office I rarely use. I opened a folder and started tearing up. A page of Tin’s scribbled notes I forgot I had but couldn’t bring myself to throw away. There was nothing on the paper I needed. Notes he made for himself when we first moved here and he was looking for a job.

His handwriting was very distinct. Tin’s passion was architectural design. He was incredible drawing straight lines with no ruler and his writing reflected that talent. Some of our friends joked referring to it as “serial killer handwriting”.

Well it used to be a joke but now that writing does kill me to see. Who knew that the alphabet, 26 letters, rearranged in a specific way with a specific style could invoke immediate pain and sorrow? I just wanted to pay the water bill. Why does everything have to be so hard….

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  • Cathy
    commented 2019-02-08 09:29:55 -0800
    Save those handwritten notes, they are so precious. I have lists of songs, electrical drawings, holiday cards with notes…yes, they bring a tear to my eye when I find more, but that personal connection is still there, on the paper. Tuck them away, they were a part of that ordinary day to day existence that we once all knew.
    It will get easier, maybe because you will be more organized and together. But it will also still be hard, years later. I try not to beat myself up for still feeling as I do, still struggling with the why’s and what could I have done. I know I can’t change any outcome, but still want that life back with him.