There’s a moment in grief when the world goes completely quiet. Not just the kind of quiet that fills a room, but the kind that wraps around your heart like a
fog. After Jeremy passed, I found myself in that stillness, no music, no laughter, not even the birds outside my window were singing that morning. It felt like
even the Earth was holding its breath. At first, the silence was deafening. I wanted to fill it with something, anything. But grief has a way of stripping
everything away until all you’re left with is yourself, your memories, and your rawest emotions.
And then something happened. In that painful quiet, I heard a whisper. It wasn’t loud or dramatic. It didn’t sound like thunder or a voice from the clouds. It
was soft. Internal. Sacred. “I heard Jeremy's voice, clear as day, speaking to my soul: "Mom, you have to get over this. I'm good, I'm happy. This isn't you. Get
your behind out of this and start living again. You’re not alone. I’m still here.” I sat completely still. Because I knew what I was hearing wasn’t coming from
my own mind. It was coming from something higher. It could have been from God, but it sure sounded like Jeremy. That whisper didn’t take the pain away, but
it gave the pain meaning. It reminded me that healing doesn't mean “getting over it.” It means walking with it, guided by the invisible presence of love that
never dies.
It was in that silence that I understood something profound: Grief is a doorway. Stillness is where the soul speaks. And love, real love, never disappears.
It just changes form. Since that moment, I’ve stopped trying to fill every silent space. I’ve learned to welcome it. I’ve started asking: “What am I meant to
hear in this pause?” Sometimes it’s a memory of Jeremy’s laugh. Sometimes it’s the flutter of butterfly wings or the scent of his cologne when there’s no one
else in the room. Sometimes it’s just peace, the kind that doesn’t make sense in a world full of loss but shows up anyway. If you’re in that silent space right
now… Don’t rush through it. Let the whisper come. It might change everything. With gentleness and grace,
With all my Love from Rosie Lastra
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