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.