The Sound of Silence

As far back as I can remember I needed complete silence to relax and lull into sleep at night. I slept the sleep of one who can rest easy at night knowing that everything in under control and all is basically well.

For the past two months I have dealt with an ill animal. All has been incredibly far from well. Like everything else right now, sleep no longer comes easy. Most nights, as I begin to drift away, Saffron wakes up panting, crying, scratching at me in an effort to express her feelings without the gift of words. I hold her. Talk to her. Walk around aimlessly knowing that as she follows me she is more concerned with what I am doing and not what she is feeling. Eventually she calms down and drifts into her own dream world. I wonder if in her dreams her body and/or mind doesn't hurt and she can run again, sniffing the delicious scents only a Hound is privy to.

Once she falls asleep, I sometimes find myself wide awake again and so I turn on the TV and usually settle on Headline News. At first, when I found myself getting tired, I'd turn off the TV. However, the change from noise to quiet would sometimes cause Saffron to stir. Now, the TV stays on.

I am so used to it I can no longer sleep to the sound of silence. My lullaby, like so much else in my life, has taken a turn.

In the same manner as following me helps Saffron cope with her issues, the noise helps me forget how my little friend has reached the end of an incredible life; that she has journeyed as far as she can and she needs to rest, for she is tired.

And when we reach that end, there will be silence. More than I am afraid I can listen to.