The "Quiet"

For those of us that grieve, we understand what that quiet means.  It is a blessing to me when friends and family leave me in that quiet and understand.  They may sense my absence of words and send emails or cards but don't expect a response.  They just know as I know with them.....we are connected in spirit that way.  Some of us have experienced similiar paths and different ones, too, but we just know without speaking.  I appreciate those who "check in" if you will, and sometimes I respond, and other times I don't.  No need to worry.....that's where I find myself.....that's where it's more clear for me.....in the quiet.....the quiet in my mind, my soul, my heart.  With quiet comes clarity and for me my loved ones become more present in that quiet, those living and those in the non-living.  Even in a crowd, I can feel the quiet.  I have learned to tune out the noise, atleast most times.  There are moments when my children talk of their day, and I give it my all to listen, and that isn't always easy, especially when I find myself at the end of my strength for the day.  Sometimes a dear friend may want to chat, and I really want to say, "Stop, please, take a breath,"  and my mind may drift into that quiet and peace.  Not always easy at certain moments, but I have to go there.  It's survival for my spirit, it's a must. 

As I prepare for our Easter Brunch at my house, a tradition that has been in my family ever since I can remember; I think of her and them in my quiet.  A while back, we changed the Easter Brunch to Saturday, so I reflect in the quiet of past Easter celebrations, and I think of all of us kids searching for our baskets.  Grandma always using shoe boxes with our names on white hard-boiled eggs, always in the same familiar hiding places.  Even into our teenage years, until the death of my grandma, we were always searching for her "baskets."   I think my sister, Susie, was married, and she still had to hunt for grandma's basket.  We loved it!  The day will be different, as all our days have been since her death, but we will carry out the traditions as we always have......perhaps adding some new ones.

The other day I attended a funeral mass, and there I found myself in the quiet.  My mouth was moving, but my mind was in the quiet.  God only knows what I said to people or how I acted, I'm not sure.  Honestly, I don't care what anyone may have thought, and perhaps they don't even know.  A few times one of my sisters was asking me questions, and I think I said, "I don't know."  It's important to be present, but it's also important to be in the quiet, and I realized that many never take the time to be in the quiet. 

Sometimes the quiet is a tearful place, there's no energy to give, a numbness, a disconnect.  With Frankie's birthday yesterday, I stepped out of the quiet and actually laughed and talked of Chrissy.  We all laughed, and it was good.  My fear was that if I stayed there out of the quiet, I will not find my quiet place again, I will not feel her or my loved ones who have passed on to their new life.  In one sense they're brought to life by the humorous memories; yet, in another sense, I forget a part of them, I forget me, and I don't want to forget.

The quiet is different for all of us who grieve; yet, it's understood.  I'd like to share something that happened in my quiet as I was reflecting, thinking of the one who had passed at this funeral I attended.  While my relationship with this person was not a close one, far from it.  In fact, I had some interesting thoughts of this spirit, and I wondered where she might be.  I thought about her kids and the impact she had on them or not?  I wondered about my own soul, my actions, my purpose as a mother.  I watched my great neice, Lucy, ramble about the pew, the floor, watching her daring spirit test the limits of my husband as he patiently removed her from unsafe situations.  I wasn't aware of this at the time, but later learned from my husaband as I reflected in the quiet of my mind, that our precious little Lucy did something out of the ordinary.  As she played around in her childish mind of dreams and carefree ways, she lifted her head ever so carefully, pursed her tiny little lips, made a manly sound and shot a quid across a couple of pews.  Luckily, no one was the recipient of this spit, but it made its way to an empty pew.  In the quiet of my mind, unfortunately I missed this spectacle.  Had I witnessed such a sport, I would have lost it!  I honestly would have brought noise back into my mind, into the solemn church and lost it!  God knows that the quiet saved me that day.  More of us need the quiet, for whatever happens in your life, quiet is good.  Quiet saved me; otherwise, I would have been the spectacle that day.  Quiet saves me most days in more ways than I can express.  Living in the quiet is needed.....not only for me.....but for those who grieve.