Wordless

I have been trying to find the words again. It has been ten days since my grandma’s passing and still I feel the loss of her like a fresh cut on my knee. And with this ripe pain comes the loss of my words. I used to see the world in sentences, everything unfolding before me in lyrical sequence. But now, everything is quiet, wordless. It is the kind of haunting silence that I used to feel when June first started napping in her own crib behind a closed door. Eventually, I know, the silence will return with a bounty of words, but for now, I must pick them carefully from a place I cannot see. Faith is believing in the darkness.

It is Tuesday afternoon and June is napping. The house is filled with the kind of sunshine only a Michigan spring can produce, full but not consuming, like a salty snack after a long walk. Sean is somewhere in South America climbing mountains with the sun on his face. Although I cannot see him, I can feel him smiling. I try hard to channel what energy I have and send it to him. Can he feel me too?

For days, June and I have been working in our yard, raking dead leaves around blooming plants and moving rocks to form garden paths. I hand her small rocks then take a larger one for myself. Looking back, I can see her following me, rock in hand, a serious look on her face. The postal worker stops to watch her, smiling at her stamina and energy. “My oldest just turned 18,” she says. Then warning me, she simply adds, “It goes so fast. Enjoy her.” The moment is short but sincere and I breathe in the spring air deeply, letting it re-center me.

Last night after yoga, Crissy and I walked through the city, our muscles set in a deep relaxation, our minds clear. Above us, colorful buildings reached high to meet the evening sky. Crossing the street, we shared our intentions and laughed about the sunny spot Crissy had chosen to lay her mat. It must have been the hottest spot in the whole studio, adding another layer of effort to her workout. There is a certain comfort in life that only a friend can bring and for that moment, laughing with her, I was myself again, without the influence of the past two weeks. Then back in the car and home to the country we drove, setting fresh intentions for the week ahead.