And echoed in the wells of silence…
When I left Pop-Michael-Old Man’s (Owen’s and Nat’s father’s) house tonight, after visiting with Nat, Anna, Ruby, and Michael… Simon & Garfunkel was playing on his system. Dangling Conversation was the song. I thought about how my conversation with Michael has dangled over the years, and it hurt to see him in so much pain. I’m sure he sees it in my eyes…the conversation. It’s visible now, more than audible, between the two of us.
We are the birth parents of our youngest son, Emmitt Owen Riley, who died at the much-too-early age of 20…circumstances still unknown to us, but not to those who were there and still hiding. We wait, and we talk more now in thoughtful exchanges of memories and lost dreams, than in the many years since our divorce. This part, and this part alone, is a good thing.
Dave’s, Nat’s, and my experience is even more complicated. Dave, being the “dad” of many of Owen’s and Nat’s years in this life, has a unique pain, one known only to stepparents. I say this, not to take away from Pop’s experience, but, it’s different. That’s all. Dave lives the pain, and is sometimes denied the acknowledgment of being the parent of a lost child. We, who know him well, acknowledge his pain and know that he suffers the “silence” in a way only he can explain. The rest of us just blurt it out, regurgitate our agony, and move to the next step. He steps lightly, amid and around the vomitus, and feels deeply.
The rest of our family’s experience in Owen’s death is much like a plane crash (three of our family members have died in this manner, so I know whereof I speak). Lots of injuries, some fatalities, and no answers from the black box. Still too early. Some might think that 16 weeks afterwards, would be more than enough time for the authorities to put the pieces together. The puzzle is unfinished, and…how many times can I say it? We wait.
Tonight’s song says so much in visual and metaphorical ways, that, really, I need say no more than this: Goodnight, Owen. Goodnight, Nat, Anna, and Ruby. Goodnight, Michael. Goodnight, Dave. Goodnight, Lea. Goodnight, Auntie Lyn, Laura, and Sara. Goodnight, Uncle Emmitt and Auntie Jackie. Goodnight, Karma. And, goodnight to all of our extended family and friends. We love you, and we know you are with us in the silence.
Owen, your words are written everywhere…
Song for the night: Sound of Silence, Simon & Garfunkel
http://youtube.com/watch?v=YhdGkZ6Fngw&mode=related&search=
emmitt-owen-riley
linda-siniard
Linda and I have spent many hours contemplating over the “Song for the night”. Most times, it is after the post has been written, to tie into the message. Other times, tonight in particular, the song is the driving force.
For me, silence is the end. The final chapter. Fini.
I need, no, demand the echo. The echo to know that there must be more to this tale. To know the life that was lost will not be forgotten. To know that the true friends that were there, are friends that still care. To know that the family here will live to echo the truths that Owen tried so hard to live.
Echo those things that make a positive difference for those around you. Fuck the rest.
Goodnight Owen; goodnight Nat; goodnight, Lea; and goodnight all.
It is in the silence that sound travels loudest. Though Dave is “The strong silent type” I have witnessed his very loud heartbeat, evidenced by the way he steadfastly applied—and applies it to his role as caregiver , husband, Father, and friend.
We each have our unique sorrow in this unthinkable situation. Nat, Pop, Mom, Dave, all of us listening to our own echoes of Owen’s voice “well” up from within us.
Hi David and Linda: I so understand the challenge of the music and the message. That is exactly what my radio show “Love Notes” was about. It was a 15 minute program with teaching, and 2 songs to go along with the message. I SO enjoyed the thrill of finding just the right song (though at times I pulled my hair out, trying to find it.) LOL! You and Linda have done it beautifully, and I marvel at the parallels in our lives, amidst many different beliefs. It tells me that there is a tie that binds many in this world in a positive way. We just have to be able to set aside the differences, to find the common ground. I rather think Owen would be pleased we found each other! Lonnie
Dear Linda and Dave,
I pray daily for you and your family, for some answer to the meaningless death of your precious son, Owen. I want to share with you something I heard in my Bible Study yesterday…my teaching director was talking about a young girl that died from Leukemia at the age of 12, the same age and reason for death of my sister, Gail. She said that that young girl had a specific purpose on this earth. She said God has a plan for each of us and his plan always prevails. She reminded us to be eternally-minded. Beyond this life here on earth, there is so much more. Owen made an impression on those who knew him. He touched them in many ways that you know and in ways you don’t know. Owen is in a better place now and he is watching over us.
Thank you for sharing this beautiful song. I have listened to it many times, just thinking about you and praying for peace. “The Lord gives strength to his people; the Lord blesses his people with peace.”
Waiting with you in the sound of silence…
Love, Jeannie