For a long time I believed that a conversation was made of words. That the more was said, the closer people became. Then I noticed something else.
The most important things often happen in the pauses. In the second when someone does not answer right away. In the way he looks out of the window before saying “yes.” In a silence that lasts a little longer than it should.
The pauses between words
My grandmother knew how to be silent in a way that everyone could hear. She did not interrupt and she did not hurry anyone. She simply waited, and in that waiting there was more care than in any words of comfort.
It took me a long time to learn this. We think silence is awkward, that it must be filled with something. But silence is speech too. It says: I am here, I am not leaving, you do not need to explain anything.
Sometimes I think this is how the strongest ties between people live. Not in words, but in what can be left unsaid.
What remains when you fall silent
When I write, I try to leave empty places in the text. Not because I have nothing to say, but because the reader needs room as well. A place where he can hear himself.
Silence is not the opposite of conversation. It is the part of it we most often skip.
There are answers that cannot be spoken. They can only be lived through beside someone. They can be understood by the way a person lays a hand on the table, or how long he holds your gaze.
I do not know whether I have truly learned to listen to silence. But I try not to be afraid of it. And with every year it tells me more.
