The Saying of the Name

Because their name still belongs in the world

There can come a strange point after someone dies when their name becomes quieter.

At first, everyone says it.

They ask about them. Tell stories. Send messages. Talk about what happened.

Then time passes.

People become careful.

Their name appears less often in conversation. Sometimes people avoid it because they don't want to upset you.

As though you had somehow forgotten.

As though hearing their name could remind you of something that ever left your mind.

For many grieving people, the opposite is true.

Hearing their name is a relief.

It says:

I remember them too.

They existed beyond your grief.

Their life is still allowed into this room.

WHEN THIS MIGHT HELP

When it feels as though everyone else has stopped talking about them.

When you're frightened their memory is becoming quieter in the world.

When you find yourself longing to hear somebody else say their name.

Or simply when you miss the ordinary sound of it.

You don't need an anniversary or significant date.

Sometimes you just need to say:

Kahlia.

And let her name exist in the room.

A SIMPLE NAME RITUAL

1 - Say their name

That's it.

Say it aloud.

Quietly.

Loudly.

In the car.

In an empty room.

Walking somewhere you went together.

Say the full name.

Say the nickname only you used.

Say it the way you did when you were annoyed with them.

You don't need to follow it with anything profound.

Their name is enough.

2 - Put their name somewhere

Write it in a journal.

Trace it in sand.

Write it in condensation on a window.

Put it on a stone.

Wear it on a necklace.

Write it on the first page of a new notebook.

Type it into your phone simply because you want to see it there.

There is something powerful about seeing the letters that make up the name of someone you love.

3 - Put their name inside a story

Tell somebody:

“Kahlia used to…”

Not my daughter who died.

Not the person I lost.

Their name.

Tell the ridiculous story.

The ordinary one.

The one you've told twenty-seven times already.

Stories keep people three-dimensional.

They remind us that someone was not simply loved and then lost.

They lived.

4 - Invite other people to say it too

Sometimes people need permission.

You can tell them:

“You can say her name. I like hearing it.”

Ask them for a memory.

Ask what they remember about your person.

Tell them you're not afraid of stories that make you cry.

You may discover things you never knew.

A conversation they had.

A joke they shared.

Something kind your person did when you weren't there.

Parts of their life that existed beyond you.

That can be an extraordinary gift.

WHEN PEOPLE ARE AFRAID TO SAY THEIR NAME

Most people aren't avoiding the name because they've forgotten.

Often, they're scared.

Scared they'll remind you.

Scared they'll make you cry.

Scared they'll say the wrong thing.

But grief doesn't work like that.

Their name doesn't create the absence.

The absence is already there.

Sometimes hearing their name simply means you don't have to carry the remembering alone for a moment.

IF SAYING THEIR NAME HURTS

That can be true too.

Sometimes a name can land like a physical blow.

You might hear it called across a supermarket and turn around before your brain catches up.

You might see it written somewhere unexpectedly.

You might try to say it yourself and find you can't get the word past your throat.

You don't have to force it.

There may be days when saying their name feels comforting and days when it feels impossible.

Both belong to grief.

SOMETHING TO CARRY

A person's name is such a small thing.

A handful of letters.

A sound.

And somehow it can contain an entire world.

Their face.

Their voice.

The way they laughed.

Who they were when nobody else was watching.

The life they lived.

The relationship you had.

The relationship you still carry.

So say it when you want to.

Write it.

Tell the stories.

Let other people speak it too.

Their death does not make their name unspeakable.

YOUR NAME

Your name is still mine to say.

Not carefully.

Not only on anniversaries.

Not only when I am sad.

I will say it when I tell your stories.

When you make me laugh.

When I miss you.

When something reminds me of you.

When I simply want to hear the sound of you in the world again.

You were here.

Your name still belongs here too.