I sat with one of my patients for over an hour yesterday just talking to her about her only son. She is 91. Her son was 75 when he passed away in May. I saw his picture. He was “old” and bald and just looked like an average old bald man. But when she spoke about him (with her faded blue eyes alternating between shining and clouding over)
he was a beautiful little baby again, 6 lbs. 9 oz., big blue eyes, fuzzy little blonde hair that won’t stay in place. Then she and I were at the High school watching her big burly son line backing. She and his dad go to every game. They are so proud. We walked through many moments of his life. She describes the tiniest details with clarity -it was just yesterday.

She does not know what the silence is that she feels. She has not heard that silence since she was 16 yrs. old. It is the absence of the “hum”.

I can’t ever relax in someone else’s house. I can get maybe 95% of the way there in my in-laws’ (very child friendly) place, but I’d rather host every play date and La Leche meeting just so that I’m home. I know where the dangers are here, instead of assuming they’re everywhere.