Listening to the Silence

The silence that surrounds me is deafening. The reckoning silence that inhabits your soul is incomprehensible to even the most basic of reasoning within. You lie alone at night, ever more over the months, contemplating and reasoning as to what brought on the silence that surrounds you. The loss of love and kindness that consumed your daily existence seems surreal and distant, yet the quiet you feel deepens with each passing day. Within that silence you are consumed by the memories of a love that still burns real within your soul. Deep and pervasive it monopolizes your thoughts. You accept the facts at face value, yet you cannot comprehend the reasoning. The inarticulate stillness is there. The peace within this stillness is something that allows you to contemplate the hatred that is poured upon you. You cannot reason as to why, or how, one can feel such utter discontent and anger for the person you are beyond this tangled mess. Your mind is packed with memories that make you smile alone in the night.

You gradually elicit the good that was. You replace your own anger and anguish with the years of laughter and kindness. The kindness that was, becomes the silent warrior that caries you through to the next day. You listen to that silence within your mind, as one would listen to a wise sage of old. I have listened intently to those memories of a time past. To the laughter that filled a house full of hope and love. Deep inside the nightly silence I hear the footsteps of a time past. Of the small footsteps creeping into my room in the middle of the night. Those minuscule foot steps creeping to my bedside to tell me "daddy I'm scared". Your reassurance worth it's weight in gold. The look across a darkened room as that little soul crawls into bed between you and the comrade in arms who too was there to protect the innocence that lies between you. The gentle smile and touch of your soul mate as you look into the eyes of the other half of the equation that equals peace and sanctity, to the scared little child that has crept to your side for security. On the other side of the bed lay the other half of the wall that surrounded your child as she lie there in peace. The quiet that followed was interrupted only by the sounds of the air passing through the lungs of the two souls next to yours. You would eventually move to a place of alternate rest (the couch) because the little fitful feet that prodded you through the night could only serve to lengthen the sleepless night before you. You would always creep down the stairs, past the crackling fire, into the room of the other innocent soul dwelling in the house, just to listen to the breath that whispered to you in the night. Just to make sure he too was okay. All that mattered to you lay quiet and peaceful, at rest and in peace within those walls.

Countless nights I listened to that silence within the logs we called home. Never once taking for granted the gift I was given. I miss the sound of that silence, the serenity of that peace. All to often I find myself in silence now. I sleep little and wander these empty rooms often, searching for the gentle breath whispering softly from underneath the sheets. I sleep little, and wake often when sleep does come, looking for those eyes across the pillow. I know that my mistakes have taken that gift, "our" mistakes. To see beyond the errors of our ways is easy for me, impossible for her. To see the good that was is natural and comforting. I know the punishment I face will last a lifetime, the pain eternal. I listen to the silence in hope that I will hear her whisper in the middle of the night, telling me that she is there and feeling her gentle touch across my brow. All I feel is the emptiness of a space vast and lacking. All I hear is the wind on my window. All I feel are the tears falling from my eyes and soaking my pillow. Love is quiet, love can be silent, the love left will remain silent for a lifetime. Unwanted and repelled forever with a discontent that is all to real.

Silence can penetrate the strongest of hearts, the strongest of souls. I find as time goes by, that I have run out of words. Ways to express my sorrow, regret, anger, frustration, and most of all the eternal love that I will carry for the rest of my days. It matters not to the recipient, yet it carries me through to the next day. The silence is beckoning and I find peace within it. I find the quiet within this house is now a source of contemplation and relaxation. As I sit and drink my coffee underneath the tree outside my door, breathing in the crisp morning air as the sun rises before me, I hear a new voice. The voice of acceptance, the voice of nonsensical comprehension. I cannot understand, and frankly I am not sure I am supposed to. I have found the gentle breath of two little angels again. Though my time is limited and continually altered, I find utter joy in taking a moment to wander into their rooms and just listen...listen to the peace within their breath.

In the not to distant past, I was taken through a process of floating in a hot spring with my feet elevated on the side, reclined, with my head in the hands of someone who understands. She gently placed my head beneath the water so that my ears were just below the surface, and held me there. All the silence, all the stillness, became as enriching as any sound I had heard. The compassion and kindness in those hands, in the conversation that followed, all the memories floating in that space around me. I felt weightless in so many ways. I realize now that the experience then was no different than the nights I spend alone now. If you listen, all the laughter, whispers, breaths, and kindness are still there. Through the cruel actions and words, there is a gentleness ever present within. The eyes you look into now are not of the same being, but somewhere deep within those eyes there is a past full of memories and a life shared in union and mutual respect. The words have become harsh and scornful, yet you still hear the voice of an angel...however distant it may be, it is still somewhere within. Like the finest of musical notes, it is not the note that defines the music, but the silence between the notes. You just have to listen intently. Listen closely to what matters and listen between the notes. Somewhere out there, whether under my tree drinking coffee, under the warm water that surrounds me, or right here in this empty house, there is a deafening rhythm to this life. The silence that surrounds me is full of the sound of life. The love within will remain outwardly silent, but forever audible within. That silence reigns supreme and within it I find peace. In the mornings as I sip my coffee out on the deck, watching the sun rise before me, I listen. I listen intently to the silence around me, the the rhythm of this life.