Echoes in the Silence

The silence in grief is excruciatingly loud — it’s deafening. It floods the soul and overpowers the senses. But, how can silence be so intense and overwhelming while remaining completely unnoticed by others? I pondered this question for months, attempting to achieve some level of understanding. When my son, Jarrod, passed away on Jan. 12, 2023, I faced hundreds of people and countless decisions, all while navigating an overwhelmingly emotional journey. A constant, relentless stream of noise filled my ears and clouded my mind. Several months after all of Jarrod’s affairs were settled, visitors ceased, decisions were made, and paperwork was completed, the silence set in. There were no more condolence calls or emails to send. My wife, Julie, and I found ourselves alone, and it was in that silence that Jarrod’s absence became the loudest.

The silence was every memory I was unable to share with him. It was every unanswered text message, and each time I picked up the phone to call, only to remember that no one would be there to respond. It was every trip I planned without him; the music and movies he loved that I avoided playing; and his favorite meals, which I prepared and ate across from an empty chair.  Each birthday, holiday, or family gathering felt incomplete without him. Not hearing his voice or laugh — not seeing his face — underscored his absence even more. Sitting in this silence with my unanswered questions, the finality of my loss became real. 

In his book, Finding Meaning: The Sixth Stage of Grief, David Kessler wrote, “We don’t like loss.  We will never be OK with it, but we must accept it, even in its brutality, and, in time, acknowledge the reality of it.” Silence, whether it is profoundly quiet or intensely overwhelming, plays a significant role in the grieving process. It provides an opportunity for reflection, healing, connection, and understanding. In this silence, I finally acknowledged the reality of my loss: Jarrod was gone and was not coming back. No matter how hard I tried to wish it away, pretend it didn’t happen, or refuse to accept he was gone, the silence endured — deafening and empty.  His traumatic death resulted in the unintentional, but conclusive, form of “ghosting.” My head knew he was gone, but my heart refused to accept it.

Grief is odd because it is painful, uncomfortable, and emotional — experiences we naturally avoid in life. Yet, to lessen grief’s grip, we must sit down with it, listen to it, and invite it in.  Acknowledging my grief, embracing the pain, and recognizing the loss of Jarrod allowed me to understand that silence serves as a bridge from sorrow to meaningful connection. 

Though he isn’t here, Jarrod will always break the silence. He fills my heart and soul with memories…echoes. If I rid my mind of distractions and listen hard enough, I can hear his echoes returning: memories from a life well lived; the legacy he left behind that continues to inspire so many people; the laughs we shared; the places we visited; his triumphs that we celebrated; and — of course — the love. In these echoes — where the noise quiets and the silence fills with hope — my soul finds peace. It is in the echoes of the silence that I honor him by not reducing his life to his death, but rather remembering that he actually lived.

Every now and then, my soul releases a smile, a long-forgotten memory, or a happy tear to remind me that Jarrod is always with me. While my cries go unanswered and his voice never returns, he remains. And he will always be connected to me by the echoes in the silence.

PHOTOS: TAPS Archives