Sometimes it’s okay to not talk about it.

There’s something about grief that makes people want to fix it for you. Fill the silence. Offer advice. Say things they think are comforting.

But sometimes, what I need most is not to talk at all. Just quiet, just for a moment.

“Sometimes I don’t want to talk about it. Not to anyone. No one. No one at all. I just want to think about it on my own. Because it’s mine. And no one else’s.”

— Michael Rosen, The Sad Book

After everything, after the paperwork, the sorting, the small talk that feels strange, the everyday tasks that now somehow take double the energy: I find that the hardest moment is the one where everything goes still.

And strangely, it’s also the most healing.

Because in that quiet, no one is watching. No one is asking me to be okay, or be productive, or be anything. I don’t have to explain what I’m feeling, or justify why I’m not crying, or why I suddenly am. The world, with all its rush and noise, finally pauses, just enough for me to breathe.

In that breath, a memory comes. Not because I force it, but because I finally stopped trying.

It’s never the memory I expect. Maybe it’s the feeling of their sweater against my cheek, or the exact way they used to say my name when they’re trying to get my attention. Maybe it’s a completely ordinary moment, like loading the dishwasher together, that now glows with a subtle gold.

That memory is mine.

No one else needs to see it or understand it.

It’s not a post. It’s not a eulogy. It’s just one moment between me and the person I lost. That’s the thing about quiet: it gives you back a little bit of control. In the chaos of grief, when everything else feels like it’s happening to you, the quiet moment is something you can choose. You can protect it. Enter it. Let it hold you. It’s a soft rebellion against the external world that wants you to move on when you’re still trying to remember.

So let yourself have that space. When you’re ready, let one single thing in.

One memory.

One detail.

One story that connects you to them.

That’s all it takes. Not everything, just one.

And from that one thread, a whole tapestry may one day begin to gently unwind. But for now, the moment is enough. Because it’s yours and no one else’s.