The conversation within silence.

“Hi, how are things?”, is how we greet each other, in an upbeat voice, as we deliver the mandatory kiss on the cheek. “Any news?“, we continue. “No none at all, all good thanks”. And then we pause…..

And in that moment, as silence takes hold, we communicate on a whole different level.

Looking at you I see the light behind your eyes is off, and the smile on your face is one that never travels to your heart. I understand that some days you are tired, as every conversation, including many with myself, is a brilliantly scripted Oscar winning performance. And I hurt for you and all that we do not say.

You do not say that every day you wake with a broken heart. That you feel sad, lonely and lost, shocked and bewildered. You do not say you wish for this sadness and hurt to end, this physical pain in your heart to go away. You do not say how difficult it is to face each day and night without him. You do not say how tortuous it is some days to just get by, to function. You do not rage and scream.

I know that there is much that you do not say.

I too do not say many things. I do not say half often enough how amazing I think you are. How strong you are despite your pain. How in awe of you I am. I do not say, that while I never wish to know your pain, that for just a little while I’d like to be able to take it away. To allow you to breathe once more and live in the world you used to know. A world with your four children around you. I do not say, “Today I miss him too“. I do not say that I cannot bear to see the boys on the soccer pitch playing as I drive by. I do not say how angry I am that this has happened to you my friend, to your family and to such a handsome, cheeky young boy.

There is so much we do not say in that moment together, but I hope you know, by not saying all of this, that I do not deny your grief nor lessen your pain. I am just reading your signals, and some days not saying anything seems to be exactly the right thing to say.

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