Adventures of the Traveling Grief Case

The Power of Silence

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Journal Entry – July 21, 2018

I woke up this morning thinking about dad and all the things I want to tell him while he’s here.  That I love him?  He knows that.  What do I really want him to know?  

Thank you for teaching me to make the best bacon ever.  To cook it low and slow with patience.  So that it comes out crispy but not burnt.  

If you want someone to hear you, don’t yell, speak softly so they have to listen harder.  

For all the days spent in the shed, listening to Marty Robbins while he sawed and worked on his cabinets.  The smell of sawdust.  For all the mornings he gave me ice cream for breakfast.  For teaching me that “it’s a good thing it’s just money.” 

For tucking me in and checking on me.  All The nights you stood in my bedroom doorway and said, “Night punkin” or “night dahlin”  For always worrying about me.  Even when I’m 40. The time you told me there are racehorses and work horses.  Racehorses are fast and work horses are strong.  You’re a work horse. 

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I remember this day, sitting on the beach, wanting to make sure I told dad everything I wanted to say. I was so afraid I would forget to tell him. I also knew that nothing I said would change anything. He already knew all these things because I had learned them from him.

If I could tell him anything today, now that he is gone, my list would be different. I would thank him for the silence. Those moments he said nothing at all. It’s funny because there is something so uncomfortable about sitting in silence with someone. Usually, it feels awkward. Many times, we try so hard to fill those spaces. But with Dad, it never felt that way.

Dad was a pretty quiet man. He knew how to listen. He had to. He lived in a house with 4 women! My mom, myself and my two sisters. My sister’s and I call ourselves Charlie’s Angels, which is highly debatable.

When I would spend those Sunday mornings with him, we would talk about books and boxing. I barely remember the conversations these days, but I do remember the silence. There was a comfort about the quiet mornings spent with dad.

No awkwardness.

Nothing uncomfortable.

Just his quiet presence.

There is so much found in the words that aren’t spoken. When someone gives you the silent treatment, you know exactly what they are saying. People can use silence to ignore you and it feels worse than yelling and screaming. When we are overwhelmed with noise, sitting in silence can calm our nervous system. And when we need answers from deep inside ourselves, sitting in silence can be our greatest power.

We sometimes learn our greatest lessons from those who pass away, not while they are still here, but after they are gone. It is then that we remember all the things we truly miss about them. It could be a look they gave us or a phrase they always said. Maybe it was their smile or the way they laughed until they could barely breathe. Sometimes it is in the silence, of all the things they never had to say.