Smiling Through the Silence: Letting Go, Letting God

Letting Go, Letting God

This weekend hit different. The kind of weekend that makes you stop mid-step and rethink everything you thought you had figured out. I found out someone from my past was murdered—brutally. The kind of news that doesn’t just sting, but lingers, pulling at the corners of your mind when you least expect it. We weren’t close, but knowing someone whose life was cut short like that—it makes the world feel a little heavier.

Later that day, I went for a walk to clear my head, but life had other plans. Out of nowhere, a man approached me, kind and soft-spoken. “I don’t mean to bother you,” he said, “but I’m heading to Bible study, and I wanted to ask—if you could ask God one question, what would it be?”

It caught me off guard. In a world where faith feels like something people keep tucked away, this stranger asked me to pull it out and look at it head-on. I’ve always believed in God—quietly, consistently—but I’d never stopped to think about what I’d ask if given the chance.

The person I was with answered before I could even process it: “I’d ask if He could hear me.” That hit me. Because isn’t that the question buried beneath all our prayers and whispered hopes? Can You hear me? Are You listening?

But with that death hanging over me, my question was different. Why do You take the good ones so soon? Why does it feel like the people with the most light leave us first, while the ones who bring darkness seem to stick around? That question has been following me like a shadow ever since.

But here’s the thing: this isn’t just about grief. It’s about letting go of the need to understand everything, of trying to control what’s out of our hands. It’s about letting God fill in the spaces where the answers don’t come.

Even with the weight of the weekend, I showed up for my friends. Because life doesn’t pause for your heartbreak, and sometimes the only way through is to be there for the people who still need you.

Lately, I’ve been starting each morning by writing down three things I’m grateful for. It’s a small thing, but it shifts something inside me. A reminder that even when life feels cruel, there’s still beauty in the corners if you’re willing to look for it. I’ll keep doing this until my own time’s up, because life is fragile—here today, gone tomorrow—and gratitude is what keeps me grounded.

I hope he’s resting in peace. He was a beautiful soul, and even though time and life moved us in different directions, he added amazing things to my life. Not a day goes by where I don’t think of his childlike smile, the funny jokes he’d crack to fill a quiet room, or the way he’d poke fun at himself just to ease someone else’s awkwardness. His silliness, his ability to always stay a kid at heart—it reminded me not to take life, or myself, too seriously. Because of his beautiful spirit, I know he’s an angel somewhere, watching over us. Maybe that’s the lesson in all of this: the ones taken too soon are smiling down, cheering us on to keep going—because they couldn’t.

So, if you’re reading this, I hope you find the courage to let go of what you can’t control and trust in something bigger. Life will break you and surprise you, but it will also remind you, in quiet ways, that you’re not alone.

Xoxo,

Victoria S