What silence brings

First head over to mikecpeck.com and read his most recent post before this one, and it’ll make more sense.

A lifetime ago, when I thought I knew who I was (but was really still a child, unfinished and full of unwise certainty) I talked entirely too much and listened not nearly enough. I noticed very little of what was important, in people and in myself, and thought I knew everything I should.

One winter night my eyes were opened and my mouth was shut and I saw him and heard him and knew him for what he was, even though I’d never seen someone like him before. And I knew, perhaps had begun to realize weeks before, that he was extraordinary and entirely unique. And that around him I already felt whole and happy, even though I hadn’t before known I might not be complete. And when I shut up and paid attention the moment somehow coincided with his moment of openness and I responded to his question and the man asking it, and accompanied him to dinner, and nothing has even been the same since.

He brought into my life a warmth and light like that of a wood fire. It warms me and makes even the coldest, darkest winters of life tolerable. It can even turn them into something you’re glad to have, because having experienced the cold and the dark you can so much more appreciate what chases it away. And like a fire it can sometimes burn, but after the pain leaves and the scars fade what’s left is cleaner and stronger and more pure.

Thank you Mike, for loving me as much I love you. You have changed my life and me and I will never be the same. Nor would I wish to be. I will sit with you on our porch 48 years from now and be glad for all of it, the challenges and uncertainties and of course the happiness. You are my Joy.