A collaboration between Lewis McLain & AI
When Words Have Grown Silent
There comes a time in some illnesses when words fall away. We search for the right ones — honest, hopeful, comforting — but the person we love can no longer hear us, it seems, or cannot respond. That has been the reality with my sister, Carol, for nearly three years now. Her body remains, but her mind and spirit seem mostly beyond reach. Catatonic much of the time, she lives in a stillness that tests everyone who loves her. She has had decades of physical challenges.
What do you say to someone who cannot answer? How do you speak into that silence without pretending that everything is okay? If communicative, how do we find the right words?
For me, honesty still matters — perhaps more than ever. The truth is, everything is not okay. Her kidneys are failing; her body is breaking down. Yet in this long decline, I’ve come to see that honesty is not the enemy of hope. It means naming the truth, but doing so in love — allowing both grief and grace to share the same room.
When Carol was still aware, I said the things that needed saying: that I loved her, that her life had mattered, that she had given more than she knew. I told her that God was with her — not as a promise of healing, but as a certainty of presence. Now those words echo in memory, and I trust that she carries them somewhere deep within, where the mind no longer reaches but the soul still listens.
Most of my words now are spoken to Heather, my niece, who has carried this burden with astonishing grace. For years she has tended to her mother hour by hour, often at the cost of her own life’s rhythm. She has sacrificed nearly everything for love. In her, I see something profoundly Christlike — the daily pouring out of self not for recognition, but because love leaves no other choice. She is a true saint.
Jarrad, Carol’s son, walks this road too. Balancing a family and a demanding job, he remains steady and present — his love practical and faithful. Between the two of them, their mother has been surrounded by love in its purest form: love that perseveres quietly long after the world has turned its attention elsewhere.
If Carol could hear, and maybe she can, I want her to know that she is safe, still loved, and that her children have honored her with their faithfulness. I will tell her that God’s mercy is near, that she can rest, and that the love that shaped her family will endure.
And perhaps, even in her silence, she can still hear. Heather believes she can. I’ve come to accept it, too. So, what do you say when you suspect the soul is still listening? I must admit that I had given up hope when Carol was not conscious for over 18 months at one stretch. Heather never wavered. She prayed Carol back for a period so she could enjoy her grandkids and great-grandkids and even celebrate her 75th birthday last February.
You talk about heaven. Not with forced cheerfulness, but with reverent wonder — the kind of awe behind the song “I Can Only Imagine.” I would tell her that the first face she will see will be the face of Jesus, not as a sermon but as a hope I cling to. I would speak of peace beyond pain, of reunion and restoration, of the home God has prepared for those who love Him.
These are not words of denial. They are words of anticipation — reminders that suffering doesn’t get the last word. Love does. This message is not just about this situation with my sister. I write it because I want you to think about it, too.
Even when speech is gone, there are still conversations worth having:
- The conversation of forgiveness — saying what should have been said and trusting God to deliver it.
- The conversation of gratitude — thanking them for the life they lived and the love they gave.
- And the conversation of heaven — imagining together, even in silence, what it will be like when all is finally well.
For those who find themselves in this same place — sitting beside a bed where conversation has ended — know this: your presence still speaks. The tone of your voice, the touch of your hand, the quiet rhythm of your breathing all carry meaning. The dying may not respond, but they often still sense. The spirit recognizes love when it is near.
We don’t need to pretend that everything is fine. We can admit our sorrow, our exhaustion, our longing for release. I vividly remember being alone with my dad when he was dying, telling him it was okay to let go. A similar experience came as they took my brother, Bob, off the life support machines. Faith is not pretending. Faith is holding a hand that cannot hold back and believing that God’s hand is still underneath both of ours.
So what do we say to the seriously ill, when speech has ended? We say what love says best — in few words, or none at all:
“I’m here.”
“You are loved.”
“God is near.”
And when the time comes, we whisper the words of release:
“You can go home now. We’ll be alright. Thank you for everything.”
That isn’t denial. That’s truth wrapped in love — and love is the last language that death can never silence.
Benediction
Lord of mercy and rest,
Be near to those who wait in long illness, and to those who keep the watch beside them.
Let Carol feel, in whatever way she still can, that she is surrounded by love — her children’s, her brother’s, and Yours.
Give Heather and Jarrad peace in their weariness, courage in their care, and the quiet assurance that nothing done in love is ever wasted.
When words fade and strength fails, let Your presence fill the room.
Receive Carol gently when You call her home,
And let those who remain find comfort in knowing
That love endures — even beyond the final breath.
Amen.
I Can Only Imagine
Song by MercyMe
I can only imagine
What it will be like
When I walk by Your side
I can only imagine
What my eyes would see
When Your face is before me
I can only imagine
Yeah
Surrounded by Your glory
What will my heart feel?
Will I dance for You Jesus
Or in awe of You be still?
Will I stand in Your presence
Or to my knees, will I fall?
Will I sing hallelujah?
Will I be able to speak at all?
I can only imagine
I can only imagine
I can only imagine
When that day comes
And I find myself
Standing in the Son
I can only imagine
When all I will do
Is forever, forever worship You
I can only imagine, yeah
I can only imagine
Surrounded by Your glory
What will my heart feel?
Will I dance for you Jesus
Or in awe of You be still?
Will I stand in your presence
Or to my knees will I fall?
Will I sing hallelujah?
Will I be able to speak at all?
I can only imagine, yeah
I can only imagine
Surrounded by Your glory
What will my heart feel?
Will I dance for you Jesus
Or in awe of You be still?
Will I stand in your presence
Or to my knees, will I fall?
Will I sing hallelujah?
Will I be able to speak at all?
I can only imagine, yeah
I can only imagine
I can only imagine, yeah-yeah
I can only imagine
I can only imagine
I can only imagine
I can only imagine
When all I will do
Is forever, forever worship You
I can only imagine
Source: Musixmatch
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