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I learned to be compassionate by watching my mom. Ginger’s 5’1″ body houses a mammoth heart.

When I was growing up, she was sometimes (okay, frequently) uncomfortably kind to strangers and acquaintances.

I suspect she overcompensated for the lack of kindness she experienced. And I cast no stones; I’m the same way. It’s taken me most of my 40-years to recognize and temper it.

“Is this too Gingerly?” is something I ask my husband and best friend to gauge the awkwardness of an idea.

For instance, my aunt passed away recently. We weren’t close, but reconnected after she shared her cancer diagnosis last year. She liked pictures/videos of and FaceTime with my family so I tried to do that regularly. It helped that my daughter is a particularly entertaining 3.5yo who doesn’t really get the concept of dying and provided much needed comedy to tragedy.

SIDE STORY: We were recording a video for Marilyn when she entered the hospital for the last time. We were wishing her a good night when my baby’s brow suddenly furrowed. “You messed up my room. That wasn’t very nice.” She scolded.

In the background, I’m failing to stifle a smile. “Baby, we’re talking to Auntie Marilyn, not the cleaning lady.” Apparently, we had flipped from wishing Marilyn sweet dreams to airing grievances to the sweet woman who cleans our house. She takes the time to arrange the mosh pit of stuffed animals that blanket my child’s bed, clearly to her dismay.

My uncle is now a widower and my 24yo cousin‘s mom is gone. These aren’t two people I know well but am fighting the need to smother with acts of kindness. I want to make ridiculous amounts of food, send cards and emails and care package, shovel/mow/rake, invite them for dinner, clean their house, something — ANY-thing to take away the pain.

“Too Gingerly,” my husband says. “But, what if I …” I protest. “Too Gingerly,” he counters every time. And I begrudgingly listen. Because he’s right. There’s nothing I can do to take away the pain.

However, I’m thankful that extreme kindness is ingrained in me. I would rather err on the side of awkwardly compassionate anyway.