What we meant to say

Forrest Gump is one of my favourite movies. I saw it when it first came out back in 1994, an important year in my life, and the story just seems to continue to resonate with me today. Over the Christmas break I rewatched it…again…and was struck by a few new things I had not noticed before. Going into a new year, one scene in particular caught me off guard.

I noticed for the first time how the final scene in Forrest Gump is different than I remember it. Forrest is waiting at the bus stop with his son, Forrest. As young Forrest is about to get on the bus, Forrest Sr. begins to repeat what his mom always said to him before he got on the bus for school. His mom’s words, of course being a recurring motif in the movie, are important right up to this final moment. But then he stops and changes direction:

“Hey Forrest don’t…I wanted to tell you I love you.”

Forrest Gump

That simple statement was needed throughout the entire story, for every character, and ended up being the fuel for every story line. It summed up all the wisdom from his mom, the actions he gave to everyone around him, and ultimately, was shown in the life of his son. It went from a statement about standing up for yourself, running away from danger, or not listening to what others think of you, to being wrapped up in the knowledge that you are loved.

Forrest’s mom wanted her son to overcome anything that set him apart from the ‘normal’ in their little world, knowing how cruel that world could be. Her words were true, they reflected what was in her heart, and from what we see in the movie, Forrest knew she loved him. But they spoke to her fears more than to what she really wanted him to know:

“Don’t ever let anybody tell you they’re better than you.”

The words we use can reflect all that we model and give to those we love. The words we use can also be empty and opposite to what the other sees in us. And at another level, the words we use can set a facade in front of what we really meant to say. Restrictions, warnings, worries, contempt, jokes…all disguising what we truly need to convey.

How often do I build the facade?

Probably more often than I would like to admit. Maybe you have as well. There is that moment when you realize you have done it, and it sticks with you for awhile. In the past, I would sit in that feeling and not take action. And then it nags you…and you make a choice every time it comes up. Do I say what needs to be said? Or do I try to put it off again? And the relationship continues to suffer, stifled at the point where it needed the truth the most. What needed to be said, what you meant to say.

So many organizations, families, parents, siblings, co-workers sit in that ugly feeling of the facade. Knowing something needed to be said, through the difficult internal struggle, but just covering it in a bunch of filler and window dressing. We were made capable of much more.

So in 2025, what do you intend to say?