The best part of journaling is in the re-reading; it takes you on a wonderful walk down memory lane. I find it fascinating, amazing, surprising, poignant… I experience a whole gamut of emotions as I recall those parts of my journey. Things I had forgotten (not wiped from memory), tucked away in the recesses of my mind, revive.
I like walking beneath the boughs of these memories. I’m reminded of many things, like this one – sharing silences. If you don’t understand my silences how will you understand my words was how I felt.
For me, an ideal partner and friend is someone with whom I can communicate with silences too. Someone who completes my silences. Someone who shares their silence with me.
This entry on Jan. 30, 2010 establishes that silences are intrinsic to my nature. And some more 😉
Someone to share my silences
I’m missing Nanan (David) more than ever before. I have no one to share my joy of becoming a grandmother for the first time. It’s an indescribable joy, wonderment, and thrill as well as anxiety for the mother and the child and hard to believe at some level; an ecstatic uplifting of mind, body, and soul. So difficult to put into words.
That’s why I miss him more. He would have been the only one who could have understood how I felt and shared every awesome moment with me, and there’d be no need for words as we waited to experience this miracle that’s waiting to happen.
How lonely it becomes at times like these.
It’s strange is it not, how not being able to share one’s silences brings on this emptiness in the soul. I can mail a thousand emails… okay that’s far-fetched… let’s say twenty emails to people and broadcast my joy. I can shout from the top of the roof… yes, they’re out there somewhere, the people I know. Those who will be polite and kind and smile and bob their heads. I look into their eyes and see the gleam that says…”you know nothing yet. Wait till you hear my story…”
I try to fill the gaps and pauses so they don’t get in edge-wise as I breathlessly rush through what I have to share but, as I take a short breath, my ears are swamped as they regale me with histories and accounts of their grandchildren. I find their stories not as exciting as mine… they’re histories… the ‘been there done that’. Why can’t they share my excitement… it’s new… not yet happened… sigh!
I listen and smile and bob my head.
Then there are the ones who are not even near being grandparents because their kids are unmarried or then, they are unmarried. So, they paste a grin on their faces which hurts me more than it does them. Their eyes hold the ‘what am I supposed to say and feel’ panic, as they launch into stories about their grandparents!
What! I almost scream, “Your grandparents are ancient, no parallel here. I’m on the threshold of becoming one.” But I smile and nod my head wondering why I shouldn’t truncate the conversation and end the ordeal on both sides!
Oh yes, I can get many ears to hear me… and all I want is someone who can listen with the heart; feel with the soul; communicate with my silences.
So life goes on, and this world will keep on turning. Time for a cup of green tea. They say it’s good because of the antioxidants.
I hung on the word “antioxidants.”
So many years later, I wonder, “Now, what did you mean? what are you saying here?”
Here’s what I think I was doing subconsciously; detoxing my mind of its melancholic longings. But…
Five grandkids later, the saudade remains!