I am hearing impaired, being totally deaf in one ear. It is manageable but I do struggle with locating the direction of sound. Hearing aids help but everything is funneled into the good “hearing” ear which doesn’t necessarily aid with detecting the origin. Some time ago I was in the parking lot of the behavioral health organization where I worked. I heard my name called but I couldn’t determine the direction it came from in order to acknowledge it. I stood there, looking around, unsuccessful at verifying who was speaking to me. Finally, when locating the individual who happened to be a client, I told her I had heard a voice. Without missing a beat, she said ironically they were the ones who were called crazy when they made comments like that. I have never forgotten that exchange as I have never been challenged with that troubling experience. I have always been able to appreciate individuals and the uniqueness of their voices.

My father never lost his soft southern drawl. Although I have committed his voice to memory, I would give anything to hear him speak again. It has been over 30 years since his death but he has not been relegated to history. I had a dream, several years ago, where my father appeared. It felt less like a dream and more like a visitation. He remained silent throughout the dream and when I woke I missed him more than ever. I found myself sitting up in bed with my arms outstretched, tears running down my face. I could feel his arms around me. It broke my heart that he appeared so life like, yet one of his endearing attributes was missing. It left me longing, more than usual, to hear his voice again.

With the advent of easily obtainable technology, things that would have been only a memory are now preserved by picture and video. It has become more than common place. As we celebrated what would be our mother’s last birthday, my son had the presence of mind to record it. Although her voice was softer and sounded tired, it creates a sentimental memory. My nephew recently posted a video interview of his mother, my late sister in law, on Facebook. Just like my mother, it was a bittersweet moment to hear her voice again. We were close and although we had spent countless hours in conversation over the years I still long for one more.

Technology has made it easier to stay in touch but it feels devoid of true personal connection. I remain current with my lifelong friend through texts and emails. We have lived thousands of miles apart for the majority of our lives. Face to face conversations and phone calls are limited. I laugh when I think about her mother not understanding why we had long nightly phone conversations after spending the day together in school. Maybe it was our way of storing up voice memories for the future. If I were to pick up the phone and hear her voice, there would be no need for introduction. There is a recognition that continues to last. It is much the same for others that I might not have talked to in some time. That individual’s voice is distinct and carries with it history and fond memories.

I will be truthful and acknowledge that not all conversations are pleasant. When my son was testing me, as adolescents and teenagers will do with their parents, there were many times that our voices would be raised. The words spoken were not the kind that you enjoy rehashing when the conversation ended. As we would part, I had a habit of asking my son something that bordered on the dramatic. If these were the last words we spoke to one another, is this the memory we would want to carry with us? Uncomfortable conversations do happen. Is it possible to speak in a calm tone, with truth and honest emotion, when you find it necessary to voice your opinion or anger?  I find it is just as important to voice pleasant and uplifting thoughts as they do no good held bound between someone’s ears. I choose to believe that our voices were given to us to be used as a tool, one for building others up and not tearing them down. Those on the receiving end, would be wise to listen with an open heart as one day that may be the only place that particular voice exists.

Post Script: This blog is posted a little bit later than usual. I had a long phone conversation tonight with a friend of over thirty years that I consider more as family. We are separated only by the miles. Do I need to tell you how good it was to hear her voice?