The Lightness of Crying?

Sometimes, when my baby cries, when he really sobs his eyes out, it's as if all consolation is no longer possible, for me as well as for him. It's as if all the possibility of lightness falls away and heaviness has begun a 50-year reign. It's as if speech itself has been rendered meaningless.

And it doesn't matter that, as they all say, "Babies will cry, sometimes for no clear reason. Sometimes there's just nothing you can do but let them cry." It doesn't matter that the crying eventually stops. When it's happening, it's as if my own death is meaningless. It's as if he's waking me up from my own future death; it's as if all present and future silence has been destroyed.