Most moms learn to tiptoe in the mornings so that everyone else sleeps in. This means we can have a shower without short people yelling “Mommy, Mommy”, under the bathroom door. It might mean we get our first sip of coffee without questions like “Where are my sneakers,” or “Honey, did you do the laundry? I can’t find any clean underwear.) As time goes on, we get used to this silence. It becomes our way of life.
Hubby works late and we shush the children so he can sleep in on a Saturday. Or maybe he finally gets a chance at an afternoon nap and we herd the crowd to the backyard. A teenager may not be at their best of a morning, so we whisper through the early hours because it is more peaceful for everybody.
When Ron and I retired to our little house in Innisfil, I continued this habit. Ron seldom had enough sleep through the night and I’ve always been a 5 am kind of gal. I made my coffee by the light of the fridge door so that the overhead kitchen light wouldn’t glare toward the back and wake him. I sometimes read by flashlight. I took a shower after he awoke.
When cancer entered our life, that quiet silence became even more necessary. Even though Ron’s hearing began to fail badly, noise desturbed him. I set the TV so that I could read the words on the screen. I turned the ringer down on the living room phone. I closed the windows against traffic.
Today I slammed a cupboard door by mistake…and listened for Ron’s feet to hit the floor in the bedroom.
And felt my loss in a new way…..because now my silence doesn’t matter…..so I guess it is ok then, to cry aloud.
Brenda J Wood