My father was a writer. He wrote all of his life, inflicting upon many of us his novels, plays, articles, essays, and self-help books. Some were marvelous; some merely well-intentioned. But of all the things he wrote, his journal is his legacy: by turns wise and bewildering, it neared 1,100 type-written pages when he died in 2010. Although perused many times, this is the first time it will be read - cover to cover, page after page.
Wednesday, September 25, 2013
Letting Go of Silence
He thinks by his silence to protect them, but from what he is not so sure. If he began to speak, if he ever started to say whatever it might be, he thinks he might find he'd said that very worst thing and then the hurt would be done, and could not be taken back. Still it is probably best to do away with this fear of what may not really be so terrible. It is a kind thought to want to protect, but what has no name may not be so great a threat, and fear of the fear is a more pressing concern. So, let it go.
Labels:
fear,
letting go,
silence,
uncertainty
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