No one warns you about the silence.
They warn you about the fighting.
The slammed doors.
The raised voices.
The words you can’t take back.
But the silence that comes after the goodbye?
That’s the part that echoes.
At first, it feels almost peaceful.
No tension in the air.
No carefully chosen words.
No waiting for the next hard conversation.
And then the quiet stretches.
When the Noise Stops
There’s no good morning text.
No check-in during the day.
No shared commentary about nothing and everything.
The absence is subtle at first.
Then it’s everywhere.
The phone becomes heavier in your hand.
The hours feel longer than they should.
Silence Isn’t Calm — It’s Grief
Silence has weight.
It holds all the things you didn’t say.
All the things you almost sent.
All the versions of the conversation that live only in your head now.
You replay arguments you’d gladly hear again —
because at least they meant you still mattered to each other.
The Loneliest Part
The hardest part isn’t missing their voice.
It’s realizing there’s no one left to witness your small moments.
The mundane things.
The passing thoughts.
The quiet victories and the quiet losses.
Love didn’t just leave.
Your audience did too.
Learning to Sit with It
There’s no shortcut through this part.
You don’t replace the noise right away.
You don’t fill the silence without consequences.
You learn to sit in it.
To breathe through it.
To let it exist without chasing distractions just to make it stop.
This Is How We Break
Not with shouting.
But with absence.
With the sound of a life once shared suddenly going quiet.
Say The Unspoken 
Leave a comment