Norma always called me one of her boys.

No wonder. Her younger son was—and is—one of my closest friends. Growing up, I spent time enough at their family table to qualify as a dependent.

Through high school, college, marriage, and even after I had two kids of my own, I was still one of her boys.

When Norma died last summer after a tough fight with cancer, the sense of loss in our community ran deep and wide.

When her family asked me to speak at the funeral, I was touched.

And intimidated.

During the past 11 years, I’d written hundreds of articles that reached thousands of people. But this was different. These words would honor the memory of someone I loved, and who loved me. These words mattered.

I searched for the perfect sentences, fumbled with quotes, grasped at bits of scripture. Everything I wrote felt stilted, stitched, flat.

I wondered how Norma would feel about my loss for words. I could hear her saying, “Don’t you worry, hun. We’re not chargin’ admission, and most of them won’t be listenin’ to you anyhow.”

She had a way of putting things in perspective.

I gave up on finding the perfect sentences. I thought of Norma. I wrote about how she lived, how she died, and how I was always one of her boys.

Writer or not, the most important words you’ll ever put to paper will never be published.

They may not pass beyond a single person.

Your sentences may stumble, your rhythm falter, your structure fail. It won’t matter. There’s no grammatical grace that can approach the simple beauty of honest feeling.

If you’re called to write something that really matters, forget the words. Reach for memories, experiences, emotions. This is where we live. And this is where our words find life.

After Norma’s funeral, several of her coworkers pulled me aside, told me how grateful they were to hear such heartfelt comments from a friend.

I didn’t tell them I was one of her boys.

~Joe Richardson was a 2006 winner of the William F. Deeck—Malice Domestic Grant for Unpublished Writers. His nonfiction has appeared in magazines and newspapers throughout Illinois. When not writing, he can be found snapping photos of his kids and other species of wildlife.