I'll never forget the day my dad passed away from a rare blood disease in 2022. It was like a tidal wave of grief washed over me, and I didn't know how to cope. In an attempt to drown out the overwhelming emotions, I threw myself into a new job, clubbing every weekend, picked up a side hustle selling secondhand clothes, and even got ridiculously invested in my gym routine. The idea was that if I kept busy enough, the grief wouldn't consume me.
At first, it worked. I'd say things like "I'm fine" to friends, trying to convey a sense of normalcy, while secretly spiraling out of control. But eventually, the facade crumbled. Tears began to well up unexpectedly - during work meetings, at the gym, or even on my commute. It was as if the dam had burst, and I couldn't escape the torrent of emotions.
I was desperate for a lifeline, something to stem the tide of grief that felt like it was suffocating me. That's when I stumbled upon Friends House, the central meeting house of British Quakers, while taking a walk down Euston Road in London. The words "truth", "simplicity", "equality", and "peace" engraved on the footpath caught my eye. I had always been skeptical about religion, but something about those words resonated with me.
I began visiting Friends House regularly, sitting in the garden to unwind and gradually worked up the courage to attend a meeting inside. It was a culture shock - silence, no talking, just people sitting together waiting for someone to speak. At first, I felt out of place and panicked, but something about the atmosphere drew me in.
As I attended more meetings, I learned about Quaker principles of pacifism, equality, and environmental protection. The community was diverse, with some Quakers being agnostic or older than me, yet everyone welcomed me with kindness and respect. It was a refreshing change from my chaotic life before.
Over time, I started to find solace in the silence. I began listening for what felt like the Holy Spirit in my daily life, slowly facing the feelings I'd been avoiding. The tidal wave of grief didn't disappear overnight, but it did begin to recede into manageable ripples. I discovered that I was kinder and more patient as a result.
The Quakers taught me to slow down and rush less - something I've struggled with ever since my dad's passing. I take better care of myself now, and those occasional bursts of tears on the tube have become a rarity.
But it's not about finding perfection; it's about being kinder, more patient, and living in greater harmony with the world around me. I still carry my quiet faith with me, grateful for the peace that silence has brought into my life.
At first, it worked. I'd say things like "I'm fine" to friends, trying to convey a sense of normalcy, while secretly spiraling out of control. But eventually, the facade crumbled. Tears began to well up unexpectedly - during work meetings, at the gym, or even on my commute. It was as if the dam had burst, and I couldn't escape the torrent of emotions.
I was desperate for a lifeline, something to stem the tide of grief that felt like it was suffocating me. That's when I stumbled upon Friends House, the central meeting house of British Quakers, while taking a walk down Euston Road in London. The words "truth", "simplicity", "equality", and "peace" engraved on the footpath caught my eye. I had always been skeptical about religion, but something about those words resonated with me.
I began visiting Friends House regularly, sitting in the garden to unwind and gradually worked up the courage to attend a meeting inside. It was a culture shock - silence, no talking, just people sitting together waiting for someone to speak. At first, I felt out of place and panicked, but something about the atmosphere drew me in.
As I attended more meetings, I learned about Quaker principles of pacifism, equality, and environmental protection. The community was diverse, with some Quakers being agnostic or older than me, yet everyone welcomed me with kindness and respect. It was a refreshing change from my chaotic life before.
Over time, I started to find solace in the silence. I began listening for what felt like the Holy Spirit in my daily life, slowly facing the feelings I'd been avoiding. The tidal wave of grief didn't disappear overnight, but it did begin to recede into manageable ripples. I discovered that I was kinder and more patient as a result.
The Quakers taught me to slow down and rush less - something I've struggled with ever since my dad's passing. I take better care of myself now, and those occasional bursts of tears on the tube have become a rarity.
But it's not about finding perfection; it's about being kinder, more patient, and living in greater harmony with the world around me. I still carry my quiet faith with me, grateful for the peace that silence has brought into my life.
This story really got to me - I can imagine how overwhelming grief must've felt after losing a loved one. It's crazy how we try to put on a brave face and hide our emotions from others. 
But it takes so much courage to acknowledge and confront those feelings, especially in the midst of chaos.
I love how they talk about finding solace in silence, something we all need sometimes. Life gets too loud and overwhelming, right?
That's so relatable! We all stumble sometimes, but it's how we respond that matters.
2025 and people are still trying to find meaning after losing a loved one? I mean, I get it, grief is real and takes time. But all this fuss about Quakers and "truth" and whatnot? 
It's just so... mainstream. Can't we talk about actual mindfulness or meditation apps instead? Like, have you tried Headspace? It's got science behind it! 
. And honestly, who can blame them? The whole "silence is golden" thing can be kinda therapeutic 
. But let's not forget, grief is super personal and what works for one person might not work for another. Maybe they just needed to find a community that supported them in their own way 
. It's also possible the Quaker principles resonated with them because they were already looking for something more meaningful in their life 
. I've always been curious about this stuff, but never really had the time to look into it deeper.
.
. Anyway, kudos to the author for finding a new way to cope with their grief - I hope it inspires others to do the same 
i lost my grandma a few years ago to cancer and it was like the whole world came crashing down around me... i threw myself into work and hobbies trying to distract myself from the grief, but eventually it just consumed me 
. then i found this tiny community center in my neighborhood that had these beautiful gardens with peaceful vibes... it was like a balm to my soul 
For real tho, it sounds like Friends House (that Quakers place) was a total game-changer for you 
. I think it's amazing how you found solace in a community that didn't judge you 
. Sometimes we just need someone (or something) to sit with us in silence and help us find our footing 
.