…I wrote this post sometime back and decided to repost on the eve of my father’s 98 birthday.
I reread it this morning and it seems even more relevant now than when I decided to repost.
After the horror that was Orlando, as writer I felt silent. So many I know pulled words from their hearts, thoughts from their spirit.
That warms me because I am silent and without words. Many of you will find that hard to believe. Bit some things are just beyond words…esp. for me.
As I say far to often:find some perhaps a stranger and extend a hand, hug them, help them in some little way bit do not wait to lay flowers at their grave. It will be too late.
Give them a flower, a hug, a smile today while they are here.
Peace out to my Family.
(TODAY, June 12th, the morning before my Father’s birthday and I do not know what to say yet)
This morning as I lay here, it is quiet.
And it is quiet.
A moment or an hour or many pass in silence as still memories.
And the silence has ended.
A bird chirps nervous and an engine whines lonesome on an empty road.
I must rush to fill in the space between when I realized all were gone, all sounds were absent and this moment.
Moments before the thud, the heavy thud of earth walls buried deep beneath me all was as it should be in deep night. Quiet, silent but not void of all sound..
When the quake hit sharp heavy and singular, I sat up. The cotton sheets, the ancient patchwork sewn by ancient hands did not rustle.
I listened for the next quake. I waited to bolt down the hall and out to the garden in front. I thought of saving the delicate thin wine glasses as they were treasures of my children, but I thought it best to head to the garden.
No further angry shakes of the earth, no mountains slipping toward the sea…nothing.
In a few moments I realized there was nothing. I was sitting in a void, a null. A space missing all sound and movement. Even beautiful movement had gone and trees stood painted and motionless.
No bird chirping singing happy sad nervous or hungry outside in the trees that lined the back.
No heavy leaden curl boom coming from the nearby waves I had watched the night before as the sunset and all around me hurried to prepare the evening meal.
No car creeping by, tires on roadway, eyes peering out dewy windshields. No birds.
No breathing of any of the others in this little cottage.
The air, the space was void of all sound. I thought I was deaf. I went to bed early not feeling well but I may have opened my eyes to the last sound, the sound of the earth groaning, slap hammer heavy below and then I went deaf. I replayed the last sound in my head and no one coughed or rolled restless and there were no birds and no cars and even the clouds must have stopped because there was no movement. There was no sound and I missed music and the hum of crowded coffee shops and even hipsters speaking of nothing but themselves.
And after what seemed hours, night hours when you lay there and wonder about tomorrow and the next day and the next, I heard a bird chirping nervous ( where is my next meal?) and a car heading south, heading to the city and the engine and the tires and maybe a radio a bit too loud.
And in a few minutes I was no longer deaf and I stepped into the sweetness of early morning sound.