As the television drones in the background, I try to imagine. My mother-in-law is a widow, sitting alone in an empty apartment. She's mentioned a few times how strangely quiet her home is. "It isn't as if he was noisy or busy, but it is still so quiet," she remarks. I stop by often, and it is deafeningly silent.
As I write, I am distracted by a loud commercial. I am used to quiet mornings, not loud chatter and noise. I have a hard time concentrating on what I want to say. And I realize that is the difference. When my mother-in-law, Elizabeth, would get out of bed in the mornings, Ed was already up. The lingering scent of toast & coffee let her know he was there, even before she saw him sitting in his recliner. But it was the sounds & voices, as he watched t.v. that was a constant source of familiarity-the comfort of knowing she wasn't alone.
I am annoyed at the noise resonating in the background, not comforted. Michael isn't usually awake at this hour. If he is, he is working-not watching television. If he was gone, would I still enjoy the silence in the morning? He doesn't drink coffee or eat breakfast, so I imagine that I could pretend he was curled up in bed, still asleep, as I went about my morning. At what point would being alone come settling in? When would the quiet no longer be soothing and instead become my enemy?
To break the silence, I would play music. The sound that soothes my soul. I would know that I am not alone. And I would sing along with the tune:
Because He lives, I can face tomorrow,
Because He lives, all fear is gone;
Because I know He holds the future,
And life is worth the living,
Just because He lives!
How sweet to hold a newborn baby,
And feel the pride and joy he gives;
But greater still the calm assurance:
This child can face uncertain days because He Lives!
Chorus
Because He lives, I can face tomorrow,
Because He lives, all fear is gone;
Because I know He holds the future,
And life is worth the living,
Just because He lives!
And then one day, I'll cross the river,
I'll fight life's final war with pain;
And then, as death gives way to vict'ry,
I'll see the lights of glory and I'll know He lives!
As I write, I am distracted by a loud commercial. I am used to quiet mornings, not loud chatter and noise. I have a hard time concentrating on what I want to say. And I realize that is the difference. When my mother-in-law, Elizabeth, would get out of bed in the mornings, Ed was already up. The lingering scent of toast & coffee let her know he was there, even before she saw him sitting in his recliner. But it was the sounds & voices, as he watched t.v. that was a constant source of familiarity-the comfort of knowing she wasn't alone.
I am annoyed at the noise resonating in the background, not comforted. Michael isn't usually awake at this hour. If he is, he is working-not watching television. If he was gone, would I still enjoy the silence in the morning? He doesn't drink coffee or eat breakfast, so I imagine that I could pretend he was curled up in bed, still asleep, as I went about my morning. At what point would being alone come settling in? When would the quiet no longer be soothing and instead become my enemy?
To break the silence, I would play music. The sound that soothes my soul. I would know that I am not alone. And I would sing along with the tune:
Because He lives, I can face tomorrow,
Because He lives, all fear is gone;
Because I know He holds the future,
And life is worth the living,
Just because He lives!
How sweet to hold a newborn baby,
And feel the pride and joy he gives;
But greater still the calm assurance:
This child can face uncertain days because He Lives!
Chorus
Because He lives, I can face tomorrow,
Because He lives, all fear is gone;
Because I know He holds the future,
And life is worth the living,
Just because He lives!
And then one day, I'll cross the river,
I'll fight life's final war with pain;
And then, as death gives way to vict'ry,
I'll see the lights of glory and I'll know He lives!
1 comment:
Very thought-provoking. My heart goes out to your MIL!!
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