You think that time heals all wounds. You think that the dark chasm of grief that you had once imagined might consume you has closed. You think that the pain of loss has receded.

The jokes on you.

Along comes a seemingly innocuous prompt – The sound of silence. A few of your fellow wordsmiths talk of their own struggles with hearing loss. And suddenly you are hit with a tsunami of emotions.

I cried for this prompt. I cried for the sound of silence in my father’s room. For all the times that I chided him for his hearing loss. For speaking too loud, for speaking too low, for speaking words and walking away without checking if he had heard. The sound of silence that he must have heard is now my burden to carry.

It’s been five years, yet it only took one innocuous prompt to open that chasm again.

MLMM’s Tale Weaver prompt invites us to write from the perspective of someone who has lost their hearing. I still have my hearing. Yet I cannot hear the voice of the man who was my first love, my hero, my counselor, my strength. I long for him. But all I hear is the sound of silence.

2 thoughts on “The sound of loss

  1. Triggers are strange things. Often they are, as you say, innocuous. When my father died, made it ok through his birthday, father’s day, thanksgiving and christmas. The following year, I broke out in tears during the world series — he loved sports, and I would often watch games with him. The loss seemed so much more.
    I cannot imagine a world of silence; you have written powerfully of how that impacted your father, and yourself.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I think it’s because at some level we are prepared to get through the ‘significant’ moments. It’s the unexpected ones that take us by surprise.
      Thank you for sharing your experience. It’s nice to be able to share.

      Like

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