Silent Music

I woke up today with a heavy heart.  For days, I had been trying to keep busy because my beloved Jazz’s birthday was forthcoming.  My mind said it was only another day, but my heart was approaching his first birthday without him (8/3), and one year anniversary (8/17) of his transition. 

On a customary morning, it was my practice to find a quiet place to pray, meditate, and hear the heart song God gave me upon waking as a means of gratitude.  But recently, I had been feeling empty like God was not there, and my heart songs had ended.  So I sat for some time this morning and listened to the silence in the den where Jazz and I had spent 14 years together.  To my surprise, in the stillness I heard a multitude of noises echoing loudly in the quiet.  It was like silent music reminding me of how much I missed him. 

I heard the pitter patter of his steps in the kitchen as he trailed behind me.  This was shortly followed by a deep sigh and hesitant grumble when he was peeved with an order.  He’d forgive me quickly, and soon came the jingling of his collar tags as he rumbled with toys.  After quickly getting bored, a chase of his own tail, while sprinting in circles, sounded bumps and thumps of freedom.  An emotive tussle on his back with a Shiba smile gave off vibrations of happiness.  Then a dash to the front window for thunderous barking at passerby’s declared this was his home.

As the tears rolled down my face, my beloved significant other walked up behind me.  He comforted me, wiped my tears, and listened to my heart.  As we sat there together, there was no noise, but the sound was deafening – piercing at my heart.  In that moment, I realized that I was not empty that day, and as usual, God provided a song of gratitude.  It was the sound of love filled with a morning melody of affection from loved ones present and gone.

As my day went by, I tinkered about cleaning and organizing the house.  At the base of an object in the den I found a long orange hair – a Jazz remnant.  Again, I sat in silence and stared at the hair and was overcome by a feeling of Divine presence.  After one year, he was still hanging around.  I smiled.  I remembered our rituals.  I was grateful.

In that moment, I was reminded that God is always in the stillness.  It is where His love resonates the loudest.  When we think He is not there is often the time when He is the closest.  All He asks is that we be our genuine selves at all times.  That authentic moment gave me an instance to feel closer to my significant other, and to feel God’s love.   And had I not honored that moment of sorrow, I would not have found the joy of the hair, and the love in my Silent Music.

Pen of Grace