Welcoming Silence in Grief
A Tool for Living Softer
Much can be achieved through silence.
In silence, we create space for heartfelt prayer.
Silence invites curiosity about our inner world.
Moments of silence serve as spaces to offer respect in death and tragedy.
Along the same lines, silence serves as a portal to our emotions, thoughts, and deeply held convictions. In grief, silence can promote self-reflection, evoke confusion, erupt anger, or even provoke profound sadness.
The latter, I believe, is why silence is not often welcomed throughout the grieving process.
To this day, two of the most chilling, yet remarkably beautiful, experiences I’ve encountered in life occurred in silence. The first, sitting alongside an innocent nine year-old boy – a pediatric cancer patient – as he transitioned from life to death. The second, awakening to a deafening silence as I lay next to my mother, who silently retreated to her death while I slept. Though I can’t adequately explain the vastness of what I experienced in each of these situations, I sensed a sacredness – a holy encounter in the silence. As ironic as it may seem, it was the silence that both awakened and stunted me.
Just the other day, I sat in session with my psychologist, his elbow leaned against a leather armchair and his eyes peering deeply into mine. He asked a question I didn’t want to answer, and he did what he always does – allowed silence to fill the space between us. I knew it was strategy on his part, a tactic I sometimes employ with my own therapy clients to provoke thoughtfulness and inward reflection. It’s amazing what can happen in an appropriately placed 10- to 15-second pause. Tick, tock, tick, tock. For what felt like hours, I closed my eyes, breathed in and exhaled deeply, then searched myself to find the answer. My response stunned me … and perhaps, my psychologist.
He offered a gentle smile and probed a bit more. At the end of the hour, both a refreshing and an exhaustion prevailed – all because of a strategically anchored moment of silence.
When my mom died, I did everything I could to evade grief. From overworking to over-exercising to pursuit of distractions, I would not allow the silence. I just couldn’t bear it. Even after my dad’s death seven years later, I attempted to escape the silence that often amplifies grief. However, the onset of a global pandemic one week after he died forced me into a solitary cocoon … and silence became my constant companion.
Little did I know how much I would transform in the silence. Dare I say that by the time the world reopened, I had made a host of self-discoveries. It was as if I’d finally raised my antennae and experienced attunement to my deepest thoughts, feelings, and the Holy Spirit within me.
Much can be achieved through silence.
Of course, I understand how overwhelming and scary silence can be. Questions you might be asking yourself include:
What will happen if my heart is flooded with emotions?
How will I manage the ping-ponging in my mind?
What if confusion ensues and I’m unable to reign my thoughts in?
What if no one’s there to help me at the moment?
These are all common and relevant questions. However, I encourage you to ask an even more thoughtful question: “What might happen if you never allow the silence?”
Here’s what I know, my friend, as someone also acquainted with grieving.
Grief isn’t going anywhere. Emotions are real and deserve to be honored. You can’t outrun all that comes with grief. And as my psychologist likes to lovingly say, “You can welcome the silence today or deal with the heartache tomorrow.”
I’ve determined that I don’t want my heart to ache any more than it already has throughout the past 12 years. And I don’t want yours to either.
My friend, silence can transform you in ways you’ve never imagined. I believe and will pray that as you invite the silence, you’ll discover parts of yourself not yet explored. As you embrace the silence, creativity will flourish. In the silence, you might access new ways of viewing others and perhaps, the world as a whole. May you welcome the silence with open arms, bathe in it, and sense the sacredness of it all.
I’m even silly enough to believe that your grief journey can be both awful and awakening, heart wrenching and holy.
Let’s consider silence a tool for living softer as we grieve.
Selah.
xo, Mekel
