Fifty Hours Later

Learning Again and Again to Live with Silence

Author Photo - Corolla, NC

Only fifty hours have elapsed since I returned home from the beach, my heart full from cherished days spent with family.

Now the loudest sound in my house is silence.

The laughter, shared meals, and conversations remain behind on the shore, sprinkled to the stars and carried away by the tide. At home, stillness fills every room.

I still think of this as a transition, though it has been more than five years since I began living alone. I have come to accept that it is my way of life, and fighting the inevitable is hardly worth the effort.

Acceptance is the way forward, and workarounds help.

Today became a day of projects. My car was serviced, my chimney swept for winter, and my uneven sidewalk finally repaired. (A gas fireplace could never replace a real wood fire, so I put up with the cleanings required.)

All these things occupied little more than a few hours, and feeling the weight of the silence, I set out for a nature walk to calm my soul and heart.

Four miles later, walking familiar trails I love, I am calmer and more serene. If only it were always this easy to quiet the memories of the life I loved: living with two children, a dog, and a loving husband.

Now, all that is gone and in its place is a single life that I have filled to the brim with dear friends and a goal of building a legacy through writing, volunteering, and encouraging others. Most days it is enough, and reminding myself that I am the fortunate one helps.

I have much to be grateful for and even more left to explore.

Yes, I miss companionship and affection, but as a Substack writer once reminded me, at least I had it once. And for that I remain comforted.

I’ve realized the antidote to loneliness isn’t waiting for life to become what it once was. It is continuing to live the life that is before us by volunteering, cultivating friendships, exercising, creating, giving generously, and remaining open to whatever joy still lies ahead.

The world still needs what each of us has to offer.

“One has to abandon altogether the search for security, and reach out to the risk of living with both arms. One has to court doubt and darkness as the cost of knowing.” ― Morris L. West

Thanks for spending time with me.