When Rick was alive, there was not so much silence.
I can remember craving silence – not for all time, but every so often, just silence.
Talking with one another – whether face to face, or on the phone.
Laughter, even at times arguments.
Listening to music.
Watching TV shows or movies.
Kids, and more kids, in and out of the house.
Being with family and friends.
Even when we were still and quiet.
Or asleep.
There was his breathing.
And the knowing that he had me.
There was this Blessed Noise of my life.
In that moment when Rick took his final breath – the silence.
Like nothing I had ever heard – or not heard – before or since.
Silence that simply took over my life.
I realize now that for all these years since he’s been gone, I have been listening
– straining to hear – his noise again.
But the silence is too deep, too thick, too pervading
- every breath I take and every move I make.
No matter where I am, no matter what I do, no matter who I am with
- there is this silence that shrouds me.
Silence that is heavy.
I still hear the music, still hear the TV shows and movies.
I still hear the voices of family and friends.
I still hear.
But there is a silence that I cannot explain or define.
The silence of his breathing.
The silence of my life.
This silence haunts me, torments me.
Whether in full daylight, or in the darkest of the night.
Whether I am alone or surrounded by people.
Whether I am in the house, the car, or out in nature.
The silence is LOUD.
Silence that hurts my ears.
Silence that grips my heart and mind.
Silence that has my soul in anguish.
It is a spiritual silence.
But also, a mental and emotional silence.
And yes, a physical silence as well.
A silence that seems to have its own persona.
A silence that moves and breathes.
A silence that speaks – no screams.
Not a silence brought about by quiet.
Not a silence born by deafness.
Not a silence due to a lack of noise.
But the silence of Rick’s absence from me.
I’m learning to deal with the loneliness.
It’s not easy.
It’s heavy.
Difficult.
Frustrating.
Confusing.
My heart hurts.
My spirit grieves.
My soul seems to stay in anguish.
How do I not become downcast?
How do I do this?
YOU and me.
Alone.
Together.
LORD GOD . . . please – HELP me.
Add comment
Comments