Friday, October 19, 2007


I have been putting off getting back to work. My manager inbox that Robert used to handle is overflowing, I narrowly made the copy edits for novel #2, and I completely missed the deadline for novel #3.

The truth is I have been waiting for the silence to return as a friend. Right after Robert's death, the daily solitude that was once solace betrayed me. It became a deafening stillness, as if I too had become cold and frozen. But the days have passed and the silence has softened; slowly becoming a wary detente and now a quiet coexistence-- but not a restoration to the welcoming tranquility.

And maybe that is to be expected. All the relationships in my life have been altered and transformed by Robert's death; why would my relationship with silence be any different? Instead of a friend, it has become a disengaged roommate.

But I think I can live with that. And, maybe,even get back to work with it too.


adrienne said...

When my husband died, a Hospice worker told me that it was going to be like having to learn how to live my whole life over again. That turned out to be true.

I'm glad to hear you're thinking about the writing again. Creation is a healing activity, and we like your books. :)

Melanie said...

After I lost my daughter I thought I would never be able to get back to teaching. My husband basically forced me back to work, and it really was the best thing for me. Yes, I was incredibly weepy for quite a while, but the kids really did help me to push back the pain even for a few hours.