Grief is a strange friend. It doesn’t follow the rules, turn up on schedule, or always look the way you want it to. When they’re depressed, some people cry and scream a lot. Some people are quiet and buried behind a powerful visage and a stillness that won’t move.
When someone is quiet, we often think they don’t care. We think that if someone isn’t crying, they don’t care or their love isn’t as strong as ours. But loss can feel like a lot of different things, and love is often found in what isn’t said.
This story makes us think about how people we believe we know well can be hiding their grief in ways we never thought of.
A loss that’s too big
My life fell apart when my kid died at sixteen. He had a lot of goals, dreams, and happiness, but they all went away in a flash. I was always sad, and every room in the house reminded me of what I had lost.
But the way my husband Sam reacted wounded me almost as much as him not being there. He didn’t cry at all. He didn’t cry at all. He didn’t even seem to care. I cried a lot, but Sam stayed calm and his face was hard to read.
I assumed he was emotionally distant because he didn’t say anything. I thought he was hiding his grief by acting like he didn’t care. We didn’t get along because of that belief. We didn’t discuss about our loss, which made our marriage worse over time and eventually to our divorce.
The Years That Went By
After we broke up, things got weird in life. I started a new life once Sam got married again. We both felt like we had lost something, even though we didn’t live together anymore. It endured in pictures, in birthdays that came and went, and in the periods when they weren’t talking.
Twelve years later, they learned that Sam had died. I felt things I didn’t expect because it was finished. He was my companion and the father of my child. I was sorry because he wasn’t there, even though we weren’t close anymore.
A Visit I Didn’t Plan
A few days after he died, his second wife came to see me. I had no idea what to expect. I expected people would either send me condolences or ask me business questions regarding his estate. But she did bring a little, heavy wooden box with her.
The edges of the antique box were smooth from being stroked for years. She softly handed it to me and said, “It’s time you knew the truth.”
I opened the box because I didn’t get it. There were dozens of envelopes inside, and each one was carefully wrapped and had our son’s name on it.
Letters from a Dad
When I got one out, I was shaking. There was no doubt that Sam wrote the letter. “Every year on your son’s birthday, Sam went to the same quiet hill and wrote him a note,” his wife said. He never told anyone. He mourned this way. This is how he kept in touch.
I sat there quietly and thought about what she had said. I assumed Sam didn’t care for a long time. But this was clear indication that he had been quietly and steadfastly sorrowful for years.
I started reading them one by one.
The letters talked about memories, including how our kid used to laugh at little things, how he used to dream about getting older, and how happy he was when he did something new. Some of the letters were Sam’s way of saying he was sorry for things he wishes he had done better. Some were just basic messages of affection from a father who was attempting to get through to his son before he died.
The Sadness I Had Never Seen
When I learned the truth, I cried. I thought for a long time that Sam didn’t care because he never told me how he felt. But he had only mourned the way he knew how: alone, with a pen and paper, on a mountaintop where no one else could see.
I cried for Sam and my son. I sobbed for the man who had to carry his pain alone since he couldn’t talk about it. I sobbed for the spouse I used to love. He wasn’t frigid, but he couldn’t express me how he felt in a way that I could understand.
A Lesson in How to Be Kind
Grief can show up in a number of ways. Some people cry out loud because they think it would make them feel better to cry alongside other people. To save things that other people would not notice, some people do things like write notes, plant plants, and light candles. Some people keep their hearts locked up tight not because they don’t feel anything, but because they feel too much to let others see how sad they are.
Being quiet doesn’t mean you don’t care about someone, so we should remember that. Just because someone grieves in a different way doesn’t mean their loss isn’t as deep.
Getting better by understanding
I felt an odd mix of sadness and serenity as I held the letters. I wish I had learned this sooner. I wish I had realized that my husband’s silence was a sign of a different type of love, not that he didn’t care. Maybe we wouldn’t have grown apart if I had known the truth.
But life doesn’t always give us the answers we want right away. Years later, healing could come in strange ways, such through a wooden box, words written alone, or the generosity of someone who chooses to share them.
I understood then that love and sadness don’t go away when someone dies. Both are still there, shaping how we live and teaching us things even after we think we’ve moved on.
One Last Thing
The letters that Sam never sent me made me think that there might be a purpose for every silence. They taught me to be more aware, to watch with compassion, and to understand that everyone grieves in their own way.
Don’t think you know how they feel if you’ve lost someone close to you. Look more closely. Be kind. Have patience. The most loyal love is often the quietest.
Ultimately, healing arises from comprehension rather than condemnation. And love may overcome the longest silences, even if it’s not said.
