The Unexpected Gift from a Daily Message - What I Learned from Reaching Out
When my mother called in the Fall of 2024, it was not a conversation I wanted to have with her. She let me know that a friend from my childhood, youth, high school and into adulthood was really ill. And even with all the resources and the best doctors, they really didn’t have a good handle on what it was… what the treatment should be… what the future looked like for my friend. It was bad enough that he handed his cell phone to his wife and all communication directly with him was gone (and appropriately so).
What do you do for old friend, one you don’t talk to enough, to let him know you are thinking about him… trying to help from a long way away?
So, six months ago, I started sending a single, short message every day to an old friend who had fallen silent due to illness. I sent each one, each day, to his wife’s email address and just hoped he would get them. I told her that I didn’t need a response or updates, but I just wanted him to know that I cared about him. I did not need, nor wanted, updates. I knew she was dealing with more than anyone should ever have to on behalf of the one she loves so much.
Into the fall, football Saturdays, Thanksgiving Day, into December, Christmas and New Year’s Day, and right through January, on his birthday, February, Valentine’s Day, and into March. Every day. Monday was “bad joke” (health related) day to start the week with smile. Tuesday was a quote from someone that I felt provided something inspirational. Friday was something about our past together. The rest of the week were notes of just words, sayings, stories of encouragement. It was a simple habit—just a sentence or two, a small effort on my part. Really, nothing. At first, I didn’t know if he was even getting them. But I kept sending them, not out of obligation, but because something inside me told me it mattered.
No expectations. No pressure. Just presence.
For months, there was nothing in return. His wife once said thank you in response at one point and that my friend appreciated it. I had information through my Mom that things were not going well for a long while. My friend’s wife was carrying the world on her shoulders, and I felt so for her as well.
At times, I wondered if I was just speaking into the void. But there was something unexpectedly fulfilling about the ritual. It forced me to pause and acknowledge the relationship. It kept him alive in my thoughts, even when life was busy. And, in a quiet way, it changed me.
Then, after six months of near silence, my phone rang. I looked down and there was a picture of the two of us from many years ago, one connected to his contact profile….now on my phone across the whole screen. Out of nowhere, it was him. His voice was a little weaker, but his words were steady: “I’m again at home, doing better, and on the mend. But I want you to know those messages helped me. I looked forward to them every day.”
I wasn’t prepared for the wave of emotion that hit me. He told me that on his hardest days—days when he felt forgotten, too weak to respond, or too lost in the weight of his illness—those messages were a tether. A reminder that someone was with him, still cared. He hadn’t responded because he couldn’t. But he read them or had his wife read them to him. Every single one.
That moment transformed how I think about connection. We often hesitate to reach out because we don’t know what to say or fear being intrusive. But what I learned is that consistency, even in silence, carries its own weight. The act of showing up—without expectation, without needing acknowledgment—has a value beyond what we can see. It was what my Father preached his entire life... that showing up is most of the battle.
In the end, I thought I was doing something small for him. But in return, I gained something profound: a deeper understanding of friendship, a clearer sense of what it means to be present, and a lasting reminder that the smallest gestures can hold immense power.
