Peaceful quiet versus deafening silence

The night I wrote this I sat on my bedroom balcony, staring up at the stars, seeing the bonfire next door and while closing my eyes and soaking in the smell of the fire and the laughter of the kids. I thought of a post from a friend of mine, Sarah, about her son Gabriel. The night I wrote this was around the anniversary of her son's death, very similar to Sophia's.

She talked about the difference between the peace that comes from 'quiet' versus what it was like during delivery, 'a deafening silence'. I've written about this deafening silence. I compared her delivery room to a silent cavernous church or the sound deep in the ocean. I'll never forget it.

Defeaning silence.

I thought of that term as I sat on the balcony in my rocking chair, Ginger's head on my lap. I looked at the stars, I closed my eyes and soaked it all in again. And I thought about how much my life has changed in the last year, then I thought of how much it's changed in the last 10 years.

It's changed a lot, in some ways too much, in others, far far from enough.

I started to think of the events in my life that cemented who I am right now, all the ones I thought of occurred in those 10 years. There are a few huge ones before that timeframe, but most are not.

• Meeting Eric, it wasn't the marriage that changed my life, even though it did, it's meeting Eric that changed it. There were several moments over the first week we started dating that changed my life, deeply. Not even Eric knows about this. I am forever thankful for meeting him.
• The divorce. Peace and deep sadness all at once. The most selfless thing I've ever done.
• Saying goodbye, for what I thought was the last time, to my friend Ralf. For me, he is the one that got away. And it doesn't look like that will ever change.
• The death of my daughter, Sophia. Still not one day in the last 5 years I have not thought of her. Not. One. Day.
• Getting laid off.
• Opening the door to several friendships with individuals and families, while closing the door on others.
• Last summer. Another crossroad in my life.
• Losing Rascal and my Nana.
• Knowing I needed peace and finding it regardless of the cost. Literally.
• A very personal issue at a job I had.
• Hoping Magpie is a real part of my life and worrying it will never happen.

As I sat on the rocking chair I realized the majority of events impacting me in the last 10 years were not happy moments. And so I looked forward, hoping in the coming years my list is much different, much more fulfilling.

I closed my eyes, soaked in the smell and realized there was very little sound all around. It was the peace and comfort that comes on from a quiet sound rather than defeaning silence again. And I looked up at the stars, smelled the wonderful smell of a 'campfire' and imagined holding Magpie on my lap next summer and rocking with her on the balcony in the peace of the night. And I smiled. Not the just an outside smile, but the kind of smile that brings this special indescribable feeling to every fiber of your body. It's to the point now where I see her in so many things I do.

I'm ever grateful that almost all of the thoughts of her are not about 'I know nothing about children or diapers or what the hell is that cream for?'. No, not at all. She is there in the peaceful moments of life and I never realized it until that night. Thoughts of her just aren't present when I worry and fret about how the hell I'm going to do and what I'll be like as a mom. And for that I am thankful. The thoughts of her are all tied to the good things in life. It's a striking revelation for me.

I turn the corner to see yet another crossroad in the horizon, how far away I can't tell, but it's there.

deep.slow.breath.

(and no, I have no clue about diapers, I have changed less than a few in my life... the rest? OMG.)