As a writer, I have always believed that it is words and not opposable thumbs that really set humans apart from the rest of the animal kingdom. Our thumbs allow us the benefit of using tools, but in recent years it has been proven that other species also have mastered that task as well. Sea Otters skillfully select the rock that will be used much like our can opener when they decide to dine alfresco on anything that resides in a shell. But words belong only to humans, even though we do know that creatures such as dolphins communicate using sounds.
Words used in a positive and uplifting fashion can elevate a person’s spirit as if they are tethered to a hot air balloon. And on the opposite end of the spectrum, there are few things, if any, which can inflict as much harm and brutal injury to another human being as words of hate, anger, or unkindness. Sadly, I believe that the dolphins are more highly evolved in this area and have not stooped to using their communication to inflict pain on each other.
Oddly, after all of these years focusing on the value and importance of words, I have finally discovered and begun to understand the value of silence, in a positive manner. Most writers look at silence as a brief rest or moment to ponder a thought and create impact, but more than a few seconds is felt to be awkward and pointless. However, in the course of real life, silence shared between two people can speak far more than even volumes of words could ever hope to capture. If a picture is worth a thousand words, silence and a gentle touch or facial expression are worth more than a thousand pictures. It is in that moment when words fail to express what is really and truly in your heart, but everything is somehow conveyed in an almost mystical connection between the hearts and souls of two people.
These moments are few and far between, because as humans we let our egos take over and force us to try to compose that eloquent sentence or thought that will illustrate exactly what we are feeling in our hearts. But the heart is not bound by the constraints and limitations of this world, so our worldly words will always fall short. But another heart, it understands the language that is ageless, timeless and will be felt, shared, and understood long past the blink of an eye that we each spend on this earth.
I can look back more than a decade and recall a day that I shared with my father when words were more of a bother and a chore for both of us, which is very odd considering he was a master storyteller and one of my greatest inspirations to write and share my thoughts. But on this particular day, we sat for hours as he dozed and then awoke just to glance over at me and try to smile. His only verbal communication was to ask where Mom was when he forgot that she was running errands with my sister. I, however, had been left with strict instructions from Mom to see that he drank a protein shake to keep his strength up. So I had to ask if he wanted a sip now and then. But after three grimaces and an attempt to shake his head no, I came up with a more suitable solution. I told him not to worry about the shake. I was dumping it down the sink, and Mom would never know he didn’t drink it. That got one of the last smiles of his life, and let me know that this was just one of our little secrets forever.
It was after that trip to the kitchen sink that I understood what he was really telling me. He would never have kept a secret from Mom, but his time was short and it really didn’t matter anymore. No longer could I even keep my eyes on the book in my hand. I sat for hours, just watching his chest rise slightly and then fall. Each breath was one more second that I got to share with my Dad and the closing stanza of his forever, our forever. Dad passed in that same room less than two days later, and I was fortunate enough to be there with him and our family. But it was the day that we shared in his living room, just the two of us, sitting silently but sharing more than we had during the course of some years or even decades, that made his passing a blessing to him and to me. I had felt his pain and his exhaustion simply by watching him. He had earned his right to eternal peace. I wasn’t sure how I would make it in this world without a father for the first time in my life, but I knew that this was what he needed and deserved.
A decade later, I found myself in the same position as I watched one of my dearest friends awkwardly curled up in a hospital bed. She could no longer lift her head or find the strength to try to straighten the curve of her shoulders and back. She was in misery when she was awake, and the pain was only barely tolerable when she slept. It broke my heart to watch her labored breathing and the look of panic when she woke up and wondered where she was and what was happening to her. She always had an incredibly sharp mind until the fall that broke her hip. The fall and her surgery were the beginning of the end, but one that would drag on far longer than she wanted it to.
We shared a few sentences each day, but most of our time that she was awake was spent just making eye contact. It was as if the pain would slip away for a few moments, and she somehow was leaving her body and entering my mind. I could see the love in her eyes and the desire for her suffering to be over. And she must have seen my feelings as well as she would try to smile. The corners of her mouth would rise just slightly.
On the final day of my visit, I lingered as long as I possibly could. I had no idea how I was going to say goodbye and make her understand that this was goodbye forever. I would not be back in the morning, nor did I think that I would ever see her again as frail as she had become. Again, my words failed me when I needed them most. She was my friend, my confidant and my mentor, as she had been a writer for decades. How could I not find the words I needed to tell her all that she meant to me? How could I just walk away?
But someone had a different plan for me and for us. When she opened her eyes as I stood beside her bed, they were clear and bright for just a moment. I could see the real Janet was in there somewhere looking out at me. I told her I was going back home in the morning, to our boys. She always called my husband and our sons our boys, because they were her family too! I told her that I loved her and that I would support her decision to do whatever she felt was best for her. She managed a full smile that time, and my heart was filled with a warmth that I had not felt since this ordeal began. Then she completely shocked me by reaching out and taking my hand. She gently tugged it to her lips and kissed it, then whispered goodbye. Before I could gently release her hand and lay it back on the bed, her eyes were closed and my Janet was gone.
I got daily updates via text from her children and one phone call. Her daughter called and said that Janet asked her to call me. She couldn’t really speak, but I told her one last time that I loved her. That brought a final smile to her face. Even 2000 miles away, our hearts spoke to each other in a silent but poignant exchange.
As much as I respect words and the power that they wield, it has become very clear to me that in some cases, silence is the only way to communicate the feelings that live deep within the heart. When we take our last breath no words will ever be uttered again. But the feelings and connection shared in silence, those live on forever.