A Two-Minute Ritual To Keep The Bond Going (Inspired By A Shared Silence)
You don't need complex rituals, just something that works.
Photo by Moon Moons on Unsplash
I’m standing at the Chislehurst War Memorial for Remembrance on a bright but cold Sunday morning, shoulder to shoulder with neighbours I've never met or spoken to.
I watch a puppy in the crowd play quietly with a small girl. Some have their eyes closed or heads bowed, but I observe and take it all in.
A leaf blows down in front of me and the smell of pine wafts through the air. The memorial stone looms high above us.
The two minutes’ silence starts and we're all here, quiet, sombre, reflective.
Just the hush, the cold, and a collective breath held together with a soulful murmur.
The silence settles in my chest like a weight but it steadies at the same time. Dad would be observing the scene too, jacket done up tight to stay warm.
I'm here thinking about him whilst we're supposed to be remembering the war dead. I ponder them too, but he keeps drifting into my mind.
I wonder what everyone else reflects on. Sacrifice. The ones who didn’t come home. Maybe the ones known and unknown.
I’m thinking about Dad again.
About how he’d be making a super hot tea if he were still here, and probably complaining about the leaky door in the car. And how we might patch it up to keep it going for another year.
The bugle sounds and the two minutes is gone. Flags gently raise. Everyone shuffles and shifts, coughs, comes back to life.
Standing here, I realise we don't talk about grief enough but these communal rituals give us permission. To stop, reflect, and keep a loved one close without having to “move on” and leave them behind.
Then it hits me. We can recreate this without the crowd or ceremony. Just the two minutes. Give ourselves permission for private moments of silence to remember without getting stuck.
Today’s Two-Minute healing practice
Dad comes to mind when I'm making a coffee and looking out at the garden. At the plants he gave me, slowly growing, and the plans we had for it.
The allotment corner. Changing the deck. Replacing the dodgy shed at the back. I run through the elements during this quiet ritual, and ways to keep his vision alive.
It's this private two-minute silent practice that feels so familiar today.
How It Works: Name – Value – Act
When: Set a daily cue (11:00, bedtime, or while making coffee.)
Where: Anywhere you can pause, even in a queue or on the sofa.
Time: Two minutes.
Name (30s)
Say their name once, out loud or silently: “Dad, I’m thinking of you now.”
Optional: a hand on chest to mark the moment. This isn't woo-woo but a physical anchor. Your brain marks it as ‘This is different from regular thinking. This is intentional so pay attention.’
Value (30s)
Name one quality or value they lived or you shared (curiosity, warmth, grit, creativity etc.)
Complete: “Today I’ll carry your [quality/value] by…”
Act (60s)
Do one tiny action in the next hour or so that expresses that quality or value. Maybe reply kindly to one message, take a short walk they’d have loved, play your song whilst you cook, create something they loved.
As you do it, dedicate it: “For you, and with you.”
Why it helps
Months after losing dad, I resisted focusing on how I felt about him. It hurt too much and I thought I couldn't cope if I gave in to it.
Then one afternoon making a coffee, it burst forward anyway. The intense pain, the grief energy, the sobs and the wail. My legs collapsed and I felt it all right there in the kitchen alone.
Ignoring grief doesn't make it go away, but stores it for later. This practice offers a softer way to embrace the loss without it taking over:
Naming it stops the wrestling. Labelling the moment and the feeling(s) gives your predictive brain context so it can focus on what matters.
Adding a longer exhale helps the distress drop a notch. You switch from ‘flight or fight’ to ‘rest and digest’ mode.
Creating a ritual offers control. With a tiny script you shift to “I can do something with this.” Two minutes is deliberate so we touch the loss, then re-enter the day. That oscillation from grief focus then back to daily or restorative activities is the point.
Focusing on values makes the bond functional. Living one of their qualities or values turns the memory into behaviour. It keeps them here in a way that supports, not derails.
Small beats heroic. Daily(ish) two-minute acts teach your nervous system that change is possible slowly, without needing a grand overhaul. Consistency over intensity.
Gentle guardrails
If this practice ramps your distress (e.g., a grief wave or spike), switch to value-based acts only. Keep it brief.
If the spike hangs around or escalates, reach out to a friend or professional.
Be kind to yourself. Each time is new. And some days will be harder than others. This is normal.
Things ease, so leave judgement at bay.
Key takeaways
Take the two minute’s silence idea with you. My dad was practical. So I plan what we would have done together in the garden if he was still here.
That's how I keep him here. In quiet, gentle ways because a grand gesture or public speech wasn’t him. It was in the small acts that we bonded.
Two minutes. That's all it takes to turn memory into movement.
P.S. If you try the Name – Value – Act practice this week, hit reply or comment and share what you did. I read every one.