What Silence Teaches You
Silence.
I only heard cars passing by and the humming of the machine keeping this house intact. The students already left the town, for holidays. They will be back soon swarming campus's buildings and parks with their noise--the noise that now I am longing for. My mind is busy thinking of this and that, those things and these things, things completed and not yet completed.
Silence.
All around me it's silence. I heard my brain playing the cassettes of memories, calling people by their names. I miss them. I miss them so much. This silence punctuates my longing for the loved ones. For the husband whose love gives endless warmth, I miss you. For the mother whose endless prayers accompany me always, I miss you. For the father whose silly love makes me laugh, I miss you. For the sisters whose words may sometimes be nice and some other times be harsh, I miss you. For the friends who love hanging out with me, I miss you. For all the food awakening my taste buds, inviting my saliva, tempting my digestion, I miss you. For the country whose politicians I despise, but whose beauty I admire, I miss you. For the place I call home, I miss you.
Silence.
It reminds me of death approaching me in silence. I am aware death will catch me off guard and take me away from this earthly world--forever. I'm afraid of death. I'm basically afraid of anything that is unknown for me, things that remain as mystery, things that are hidden in the dark. Waking up in the morning, I forgot for a while that last night, trembling with the familiar shiver, I asked nothingness whether I would be able to wake up and continue breathing, eating, living.
Silence.
No, there is never an absolute silence. I can still hear my own voice talking about random topics. I can still hear my loving husband mumbling my name. I can still hear my Mom's prayer in the breeze sweeping through the window. I can still hear my friends talking about me, about the memories they had with me. I can still hear my father talking about me, his pride. I can still hear my sisters gossiping me, about the old good and bad times.
But, I can't hear death. Maybe there is an absolute silence, and it is death.
I only heard cars passing by and the humming of the machine keeping this house intact. The students already left the town, for holidays. They will be back soon swarming campus's buildings and parks with their noise--the noise that now I am longing for. My mind is busy thinking of this and that, those things and these things, things completed and not yet completed.
Silence.
All around me it's silence. I heard my brain playing the cassettes of memories, calling people by their names. I miss them. I miss them so much. This silence punctuates my longing for the loved ones. For the husband whose love gives endless warmth, I miss you. For the mother whose endless prayers accompany me always, I miss you. For the father whose silly love makes me laugh, I miss you. For the sisters whose words may sometimes be nice and some other times be harsh, I miss you. For the friends who love hanging out with me, I miss you. For all the food awakening my taste buds, inviting my saliva, tempting my digestion, I miss you. For the country whose politicians I despise, but whose beauty I admire, I miss you. For the place I call home, I miss you.
Silence.
It reminds me of death approaching me in silence. I am aware death will catch me off guard and take me away from this earthly world--forever. I'm afraid of death. I'm basically afraid of anything that is unknown for me, things that remain as mystery, things that are hidden in the dark. Waking up in the morning, I forgot for a while that last night, trembling with the familiar shiver, I asked nothingness whether I would be able to wake up and continue breathing, eating, living.
Silence.
No, there is never an absolute silence. I can still hear my own voice talking about random topics. I can still hear my loving husband mumbling my name. I can still hear my Mom's prayer in the breeze sweeping through the window. I can still hear my friends talking about me, about the memories they had with me. I can still hear my father talking about me, his pride. I can still hear my sisters gossiping me, about the old good and bad times.
But, I can't hear death. Maybe there is an absolute silence, and it is death.
Comments
Post a Comment