The Quiet Pain

I jammed my thumb in the door of my car last Saturday.

The door closed completely.

Not just a little bit. But all the way, shut.

As if my thumb was not inside the door.

I nearly passed out but I had to find the strength to open the door to get my thumb back out.

In those seconds, I was overwhelmed with the pain.

But I was able to get my other hand to open the door.

Then the pain got so much worse. I iced it. I steadied myself.

I lost all color from my face.

And waited it out.

I am very quiet when I am hurting a lot.

If you were there, when the door closed on me you would have never known it.

Pain that severe makes me quiet.

I bet your pain is quiet too. Like mine.

I bet most people who suffer a lot…

Suffer in complete silence.

I listen for those.

I listen for the reader that never writes to me.

I read all the emails you never send me.

Did you know?

I know the quietness of your pain.
The pain you never write about.
Not to me, not to anyone.
Pain of that kind has no words.
It is so deep that it can’t even find its way to human expression.
It is still made of sound. Vibration.
I listen for it. And find my way there.
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So I could find the words to write to you, the reader who is quiet.

Living with the pain that has no words.

This letter is for you.  

Because I heard you.

I heard the sound the pain makes inside your heart.

With listening for you,



  1. Hi Christina,

    Even though it’s been over 10 years now, I still think of him and miss him every single day. There’s still times I turn to him to ask him a question, or just talk and he’s not there. So I have to pretend he is! We could talk about anything. We had very good communication between us. My eyes are tearing writi ng this to you now. The holidays aren’t especially hard time as everybody knows. I have to try my best to put on a brave face during this time, but I think of all the fun we had when we were young and then all the way up to when he died preparing for this holiday. It’s hard to do it alone and there are a lot of quiet tears and quiet times that I just tear up. I miss him so much till that it hurts. I have my children, three boys and their spouses and I have five grandchildren now that I wish he could meet. But I know he’s smiling down on us from heaven. Thank you for all you do to help people get through this grief. I even have your book then trying to to read it’s helpful. I hope you have a wonderful Christmas.🎄🕯❄♥🎄

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Christina Rasmussen

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