What do you know for sure to be true?
Communication matters
[Trigger warning: Child loss.]
“What do you know for sure to be true?”
Pamela Slim asks this question in her book Body of Work: Finding the Thread That Ties Your Story Together. And rereading the book now after 10 years, that question is still deeply salient for me.
Ten years ago, I was pregnant with our second child — after our first child had died in her sleep at age two, years before. I was scared to death. I was trying to write my first book, and it felt impossible. I was also parting ways with my employer (a mutual and friendly parting), finally taking the leap to focus full-time on my fledgling content marketing and copywriting firm.
Today I’m the mother of two living daughters. One has the same genetic condition that took my first — but she’s thriving, and I have all the hope in the world that she’ll have a long, happy life. I’m also the author of many books, and my consulting firm works with some of the most interesting tech companies in the world (and it’s no longer just me).
Then and now are different planets.
But that question still calls to something deep in my soul: What do you know for sure to be true?
Here’s my answer — and it hasn’t changed in 10 years:
A little communication goes a long way.
When my first child died, it was sudden and completely unexpected. We wouldn’t find out the reason for nine more years. For months after the loss, we received cards in the mail from close friends, distant relatives, people we hadn’t seen in decades, even people we had never met in person. Some cards included simple, handwritten messages like, “I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine your pain. I’m praying for you.” Some cards included lengthy letters that detailed their experience when they heard the news.
Honestly, the exact words didn’t matter — they all had the same effect on me.
Every card, every note, every letter made me feel loved.
Someone had taken time out of their day to write words to me and send them in the mail. I can’t imagine how hard that was for most people. No one knows what to say to someone who has gone through such unimaginable loss.
It was the simple act of communication that mattered.
Just last week, I was driving, and my now-nine-year-old was in the back seat. She told me that she wanted to send her old preschool teacher a letter and one of her drawings, just because she was thinking about her. I told her, “Do it. A little communication goes a long way.”
When I’m deep in work, and a client sends me an email, and I know I can’t take the time to write a full response, I still send an email back: “Got it. Will respond in full as soon as I can.” Because a little communication goes a long way to making clients feel cared for.
What I know for sure to be true is that a little communication goes a long way.
Through every season of my life, in every role, in every place, this has held true. A little communication makes a big difference. It makes people feel loved, cared for, and heard.
What do you know for sure to be true?