The Quiet

One thing you notice when your loved one is first gone, and even in all the subsequent days, weeks and months, especially on holidays and times of celebration, is the quiet. It's not as though there is not plenty of "noise" around you, it's just that often you just don't hear it. In those first weeks and months and even into the years, you often wonder if you will laugh with the true joy that laughter used to bring...it feels so fake, empty and noiseless now. We all know laughter is good for the soul, but in grief, it is the last thing you feel up to doing, even though the world around you laughs and makes noise. There is that happy chatter of preparing for special occasions or just day to day living. There is also that grumbling and moaning and "bitching" if you will. Life can seem unfair and the little things, like flat tires and tupperware falling out of the cabinet can make you break apart at the seams! So, in retrospect, we know that not all times are remembered as being joyous and happy, but those are the times you ache for when they are so far out of your reach. You would take all moments back if given a choice.

Even holidays are not without their stress, and now that they are here again, it is the quiet that I most notice...without her. Yes, we talk, we laugh, we live, we find enjoyment, and definite peace, and you will rarely hear a grumble or complaint from any of us. How would we dare? How would we allow the problems of this world and the "small stuff" get to us, when we now know that everything has a purpose, a solution, a way to come through it all with our heads held high? How could we have observed the trials and tribulations of cancer taking over our daughter and sister, the side effects, the pain, the shock, the loss of all normalcy, and not learn the lesson?

Still, the quiet is often gut wrenching. I long for the noise that was...sure, the TV can be on, we can be watching a movie, we can be playing a game, and there is noise. But it is not the noise we are used to...it's just not the same, and it never will be, so we learn how to take hold of the quiet, accept it for what it is, and regroup with new purpose. Until someone is missing from the family gathering to hang up the ornaments, bake the cookies, go to church, wrap and unwrap the presents, until the person's face fades from the images of physical life, we cannot comprehend that there is so much more to deal with than just them not being here. It all sounds so different, even when there is noise.

I used to think I had to fill the empty space with words and chit chat. Known as a "talker" I can find anything to talk to anyone about! But now, I am learning to be still, accept the quiet that surrounds the death of a loved one, but make a different noise, not fill it with sounds that cause me pain or discomfort. One moment I can listen to the sounds blaring through the house, the Christmas Carols, once playing continuously for weeks. Now, I may listen, and in a blink of an eye, there it is, that song or hymn that must be turned off. I can go from noise to quiet in the same 60 seconds, recognizing that this IS or IS NOT what I need right now. One moment I can be laughing at a movie, and in the next, realizing that the laughter seems so hollow and empty and foreign...who would have thought, that laughter and joy would need to be relearned?

Noise is all around us. It never ceases, and I recognize that I have been around it all my life, finding it hard just to settle and be still. Now I see and hear it all differently. There is no longer any need to fill the air with noise, the silence is becoming my greatest teacher.