Sometimes there's just nothing to be said, and I think it's better to stay in the empathetic silence, knowing, than to ruin it with platitudes. For me they cheapen it, make it feel trite, less real - as if it can be addressed with words at all, let alone those thrown around by sympathetic strangers, like alka-seltzer to the gulls. Just something to take in, try to ingest, never finding any satisfaction or comfort from the hunger - just building, building, building pressure .
How many times I have wished I could just explode in a bloody mass of feathers and bloated entrails, be strewn across the sand in a gory mess so that my outward appearance could finally match the inside one. But I will never be baked into the earth, washed by the surf, or be done with it.
Knowing that, I can't allow myself to satisfy the need to say, "I know how you feel" because I know that I don't. Hell, even Scott doesn't fully comprehend how I feel. How can anyone else? or "It gets better." because I'm not so sure that it really does, you just learn to ignore it, or forget about it. Or "I'm sorry." What does that mean anyway? Nothing really, in the grand scheme of loss.
So, I respectfully say, "Nothing."