Silence

Today is the first day since the stroke that I haven’t seen my mom. It’s a little weird, but not as weird as I thought it would be. It actually feels more normal – back to the way things were before.

I’m really glad I decided to stay in Oakland today – not because I don’t want to see my mom, but because I’m tired. And I really wanted to spend the evening with my roommates, just chilling at this adorable house with a backyard and two cats that my roommate is cat-sitting.

I called my dad, just to check in. He was sitting in the hospital room with my mom, so we chatted for a little bit, and then I said “alright, Dad, I’ll see you tomorrow, tell Mama that I love her,” and he said “why don’t you tell her yourself?”

So he put the phone up to her ear, and I told my mom I loved her, and that I would see her tomorrow. And then I waited, awkwardly, in the silence. I tried to say a few other things like “I hope you sleep well” and “I hope therapy went well today” but there wasn’t much I could do to not feel awkward. After awhile I said “Dad?” hoping he would hear and take the phone back.

He did. He said she was blowing kisses in the air to me.

It’s not as big a deal that my mom can’t talk when I’m there in the room with her, able to read her facial expressions, see her nods, and interpret her hand squeezes. But tonight the fact that she can’t speak became real. Tonight I realized what not living at home is going to mean if she can never speak. Tonight I realized how horrible silence can be.