Death is a long radio silence. My husband has been gone almost eleven years and I haven’t heard his voice over the earthly airwaves in so long. Not even in my head. Oh, I often dream of him but usually the dreams are driven by negative images. He is leaving me for another woman, ignoring me, etc. I am not sure what my psyche is up to with that one, but nevertheless they are lonely longings for him.
As for my daughter, her radio silence is the same. Death is more than absence of a body. It is also the absence of a relationship that will never happen again. No matter how many people tell you that the dead are right here with us, they cannot take us to dinner or say they love us. They cannot visit us on holidays and return to heaven.
So death is something that is silent. These days I have come home to silence in the deepest possible way. It’s as if my own death of thought is underway. As if silence is teaching me things I have always wanted to know.
Silence tells me that everything happens in its own sweet way and time. And I feel this. I feel this. I still get anxious but the silence contains it as noise never can. Noise is a product of dysfunction and silence overcomes it.
Silence holds me in a rhythmic sway, as if it knew the steps to every dance and the punchline to every joke. I am laughing more. Sitting alone on the couch appreciating the work of a skilled comedian. Laughter comes out of nowhere and I am so grateful for it.
I am typing in silence. Who am I? Verbiage is a poor substitute as an answer. Who is it that takes over when I am forced to speak with people? Silence takes a backseat to personality. That is why introverts avoid crowds. They tire of having to trot out the personal. They feel like ventriloquists putting words in the mouth of a dummy. But not getting paid.
I am arising in silence as waves arise in the ocean. I am full of barnacles and seaweed. But the moon shines on me just like it did when I had a husband and a child. Perhaps that is where I should look for them, in the silence of the heavens.
They are not looking for me. They know exactly where I am and what they want me to do for them. I don’t have to tell you what that is. They want me to return to myself and love myself. That is the only way home and they are waiting for me.