Crickets

At work, when we have not received answers or information or when a question is asked and seems to drift off into a black hole, we say "Crickets." Perhaps they say it other places too and I am just behind the times, but the office is the only place where I have heard this term used; and, it is used a lot.
Right now I hear crickets.
I want answers; I write e-mail; I send words out to friends around the world... I want someone to just offer an explanation of some sort...
And, "crickets"
I scroll through the e-mail
"Crickets"
I send notes trying to find someone who will offer some sort of answer. And maybe there is someone who has "an" answer but my questions are so weighty and numerous now that they, like me, are at a loss.
Yesterday I received quite a nice gash on an eye brow while engaged in an intense and emotional conversation at work. Two hours and stitches later, I was at home trying to relax out of shock (shaking) and working my way through not thinking about all that is happening.
While today the people with whom I work continued to show both support and concern, my own management team, well aware of the situation... "crickets."
The irony, I love the sound of crickets. They are a welcome form of nature's music when the seasons change. When I was younger, summer nights were about sleeping with the windows open and not hearing traffic - just crickets. (And the occasional mosquito because what is a summer without that buzzing.)
I recognize that there are not answers to all of my questions. Fully aware that I will not have an answer to why this little boy died, I don't ask the question, though I feel the loss. I recognize that my management team is torn between trying to live in two very different worlds and has not yet figured out that the commitment can not be made to both; so I don't ask too many questions, but I note the environment that is created. (Even the barista at Starbucks asked about my injury... *sigh* and yet, from my manager, "Crickets?")
I remind myself that there aren't always answers. That my friends are happy to read and listen, but they don't have the answers. They can only offer support of their own and hear me out. The silence leaves me sad over angry. Sad for the inaction; the lack of awareness of the results of inaction and noncommitments.
It seems that our inability to focus beyond ourselves creates challenges that are both unwanted and unnecessary. One of the men at work is upset because he was not invited to the funeral services for my friends child. He is management; they are not friends; but he wanted to be there and felt he had something to offer. Drama now circles through the office attempting to pull those of us who were friends into its vortex.
My injury will serve as a reminder that I need to be more aware of my surroundings; that I need to remember to breathe; and the importance of finding a number of ways to work through and process events as they arise.
Most of what is happening right now, I can't control. My friend, who lost her son, is scrambling about seeking answers, focus, reason, purpose, and anything to fill her time and that hole she doesn't want to admit exists in her everyday. To her, I give my support; and from me she likely wants answers she knows I don't have and can't give so maybe she, like me, is dealing with a lot of "crickets."