While My Guitar Gently Weeps

So, within a week of one another, both my 13yo and my 16yo have had their hearts broken.

They process things very differently. My youngest is open with me. My older one is shut down. I want so much to help, but know I have to let them have their feelings.

Their dad is great at giving them a laugh every now and then. And they are helping each other laugh occasionally as well. The sound of their pained laughter breaks my heart almost more than the sound of their silence or sniffling.

My older son is a musician and there is almost always a soundtrack going on behind every part of family life with these amazing guitar riffs.

He just started playing, and it sounds broken. It is barely anything. It is not like him. It hurts.

I remember my sister playing piano and being able to get all her emotions out on the keyboard. It probably saved her more times than she can count. I just had journals to write all my feelings down in and talk in circles and make myself crazier. I was always jealous that she could turn her pain to beauty or her joy to something magnificent.

My son is strumming slowly. No riffs. No complicated progressions. Single notes. Minor keys. My heart aches for him. But, slowly, this is what he needs to do. He needs the physical outlet of the sounds and feel of his guitar. He will work his way back to the sounds that electrify the whole house. Right now, he is grieving in his own way.

And I just realized what the phrase means about a guitar gently weeping. This is the sound coming through his door. It is a healing sound. It is a tragic sound. He is taking care of his heart in the best way he knows how.

Photo from Musicposters.shop

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