A family friend’s grown up son came home to visit. He called and arranged to meet his mum for tea after work and then jumped off a bridge into motorway traffic. No one quite knew why and the road left too little of him to answer.
My long-gone friend became a question mark when he jumped/ fell/pushed/ leaped into a moment and ended in that instant.
I wish he was still a man and not an anecdote. I forget his face but will never lose touch with the simple wish that I’d asked, and waited just a little longer for a realer answer – how are you?
It is hard to make sense of silence. We sit with it and it smothers us.
If I speak mine, you can speak out of yours.
There is a courage in breaking, and admitting to the brokenness. There is courage in crying and letting yourself care.