It is a cool, overcast Seattle morning. A silent calm fills
the neighborhood. I am silent as well. My pen has been silent for too long. I
wait in silence for the re-release of my books after the demise of my publisher
and the signing with another. I wait in silence for medical updates on a
sister's health after the loss of two other beloveds to cancer only months ago.
I wait in silence, in a silent home, for the arrival of family to fill these
rooms in joyous anticipation of our daughter's wedding.
A summer of waiting, of silence, of holding in tears. The
tears of pain and joy so intermixed I find myself teetering, equilibrium at times
difficult to maintain. I support the worried and grieving as well as the
joyous as best I can, knowing what I offer is never enough. It will never be
enough.
The losses will always be felt, but with time and patience the
flood waters of hurt will recede. Though there may be glitches in the perfect
wedding plans, the bliss will always be cherished, the memories locked away, a
balance against future losses.
In the silence of one gray Seattle morning, I reminded myself
there will always be losses and new beginnings. My heart told me to put pen to paper once
again, knowing life's challenge is learning to negotiate the extremes.
