Dear Child, healing sounds

My Sweet Daughter,

I sit at your bedside, day after day. You may not realize it, but you are driving me to consider the meaning of life. You lay there, at least partially unconscious to this world. I sit here in denial. “Move forward,” they tell me. “Get back to a normal routine.”

What could possibly be normal about an accident that leaves one’s child in this place between worlds. A purgatory of sorts. I hope you are comfortable but not content. I want you to come back to me.

How to heal you and how to bring you back to lead a life here is my sole consideration. In trying to understand how to heal the hopeless, I have contemplated how creation came to be.

Mystics, prophets, theologians and even scientists agree on how creation started. Creation was born out of silence with an utterance or presentation of sound. The sound of a voice, the sound of a word, the sound of an explosion, everything we know started with the vibration of a simple sound.

Your doctors have told me that hearing is the last sense to go before one dies. Since you are not dead, your hearing continues to work. My stories and prayers are heard by you. Perhaps you do not process the ideas as well as I would hope, but it’s clear that you hear them.