In moments when you are filled with emotion, you often find yourself sorting through words in your brain, trying to frame the real time event into a story. Maybe this helps you to digest the events unfolding, or maybe it just helps you to separate yourself from them, as if the pain or uncertainty in these moments are far too raw, too fresh, to be consumed without this prior preparation. But there are times for words, and there are times when words should come after.
In that moment when you inexplicably break down into tears that cannot be managed or hidden, but instead turn into body-wracking sobs, and you are enfolded into a lovely pair of warm, solid arms, there is no room for words. So no one asks you why you are crying, no one asks you to explain and process the permeating emotion flowing through your core; they let you feel. Because there is a time for words, and there is a time when words should come after.
That is love. And that is respect. It is respect for another person's right to experience and sift through their pain in silence, in their own time, and in their own way, without demanding an explanation. It is the willingness to be their comforter, without encroaching on their right to grieve.