No words

Sometimes there are no words.

No words to describe what’s going on.

No words to describe what I’m thinking and feeling.

No words for this hurt, this indescribable gaping hole inside of me.

I’m speechless. I’m still in a daze. I’m still lost for words.

It’s the shock.

I can’t get my head and heart round it.

I cannot believe this is happening.

I cannot believe he is gone.

I cannot begin to grasp that I will never speak to him again, never see him again.

A lament can be words and a lament can be no words.

A lament can be that long moment of eerie calm before the tsunami wave rushes in.

A lament can be that long moment of stunned silence before I am ready to name what has happened.

So let me just be in shock for now.

Sit with me in the silence.

Don’t fill the silence with questions and platitudes.

Just be with me and honour the silence.

I know you may not be comfortable with silence.

The world doesn’t know what to do with silence.

That’s why we constantly surround ourselves with noise.

But for now, I need the silence.

The space to process what has happened, the space to find my voice.

I’m not saying I want to be alone. I’m not saying that at all.

It wouldn’t be good for me to be alone.

I need you, I need your presence, I’m just not ready to talk.

I know it’s been over six months.

I’ve become really good at denial.

At getting on with life as if nothing has happened.

But deep down I know something massive has happened, something too painful to even imagine.

I’m carrying that with me all of the time. It influences everything I do, every single moment of every single day.

But for now, allow me the silence.

I’m still lost for words.

Sit with me in the silence.