Written in June 2020

I stepped out onto what had been my parents’ back porch. Two weeks earlier my Dad had breathed his last in the room behind me. Twenty-seven months earlier my mother had breathed her last in the same room. Both died surrounded by their children, and both are now in Heaven.

As I stepped onto the porch I noticed a pot of flowers from Dad’s funeral that I will take home with me. They needed watering. Instantly, I was met with sounds of talking and laughter. The people next door had visitors. Another neighbor has a pool, and sounds of enjoyment filled the air.

In a few days I will be back home after being gone for three weeks. As I enter the door, I will be met with the sometimes-deafening sounds of silence. My wife died three years ago. For the past three weeks, I have been surrounded by family and friends. As I enter the door to my home, the silence will be deafening until it once again becomes routine. I will be fine. This blog is not about me.

My heart goes out to those who live alone or are currently living in isolation. If Covid-19 has done anything, it has isolated us even either further. Life will never fully return to the way it was before the lockdown. We must find ways to connect to the unconnected. The sounds of silence can be good, peaceful, but God help us not to intentionally silence the sounds of the lonely and hurting around us.

Thank you Carle Hospice of Champaign, Illinois for going above and beyond to deliver superb healthcare along with a healthy dose of love, compassion, and respect. Many members of your staff became extended members of our family.

Stan Means
Elder Source Senior Ministries
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