Kindness Is Liberating: How One Lunch Taught Me the Power of Silent Strength

Lola Adeosun
Jul 16
3 min read

“You can’t forgive without loving. And I don't mean sentimentally. I don't mean much. I mean having the courage to stand and say, ‘I forgive.’” — Maya Angelou

A Lunch Date, a Confession, and a Quiet Moment of Healing

A few days ago, I reached out to one of my dearest friends, the kind of friend you don’t speak to every day, but when you do, it feels like no time has passed. We’ve shared countless lunch dates over the years, so a quick check-in was nothing out of the ordinary. Until she said, “I have a confession to make.”

My heart stuttered for a moment. You know that sinking feeling when someone close says something like that? I braced myself, expecting the worst: a terrible decision, a painful revelation, a loss.

It wasn’t quite that. But it was close.

The Strength Behind Quiet Words

With tears threatening to spill, she shared that she had recently faced a difficult decision involving someone she deeply cared about. She didn’t need to go into detail. Her tone, the weight in her voice, and the heaviness behind her eyes said it all.

I fumbled for the right words, but nothing came. So I stayed silent. I held her hand. I let the silence speak.

And you know what? It did.

There’s something almost sacred about being present with someone in their unspoken pain. No grand advice. No cliché solutions. Just presence. Kind, human, and whole.

When Eyes Speak Louder Than Words

That afternoon reminded me of another woman I once cared for, someone who couldn’t speak, at least not with words. But her eyes? They carried entire conversations. They darted around her room, paused on your face, widened when anxious, softened when calm. Her gaze was fluent in emotion.

My friend’s gaze, in that moment, was just the same. Full of grief. But also grace. She taught me something in her quiet: strength isn’t always loud. Forgiveness isn’t always voiced. Healing doesn’t always announce itself.

We eventually shifted the conversation. We even laughed before the meal ended. But something powerful had already happened. She was lighter. And so was I.

When we hugged goodbye, long and tight, I could tell we both knew we’d just shared something real.

“As I walked out the door toward the gate that would lead to my freedom, I knew if I didn’t leave my bitterness and hatred behind, I’d still be in prison.” — Nelson Mandela

Kindness Is Liberating

That experience led me to reflect on a simple but transformative truth:

Kindness is liberating. And not just the performative kind, the deep, sometimes silent kind that shows up, holds space, and doesn’t demand anything in return.

That kind of kindness requires courage. It’s not always convenient. It rarely feels easy. But it has the power to open prison gates, for you and for others.

That’s why I’m calling this blog "Kindness Is Liberating", because it really is. Whether it’s sitting beside a grieving friend, forgiving someone who hurt you, or showing up without having all the answers, kindness is a release. And it leaves a lasting imprint.

Your Turn: What’s Your Memriz Moment?

Have you ever sat with someone through their silent storm?

Have you ever realised that sometimes the strongest thing you can do is simply be present?

At Memriz, we believe stories like these can spark healing. They remind us that humanity is made not just in grand gestures, but in shared silence, in brave forgiveness, in kind eyes, and gentle hands.

What has been your Memriz moment lately? We’d love to hear it.

Share it with us on Memriz. Online, and help us create a community where real stories bring real encouragement.

Let’s remind each other: Kindness is more than a soft word. It’s a powerful, freeing act of love.