Dear Life: Pain, Grief, and New Beginnings

I wanted to be on the road in February. But things happened. Life happened. Shari died. And it broke me. In a place I didn’t know I could crack, a space opened up and it was so wide, so quiet, so lonely. A dark, empty room with no beginning and no end – a vastness of nothing, no singular emotion to hold on to but grief. So I surrendered. For the first time, my own words felt useless. Incapable. Meaningless. How do you explain when you feel everything and nothing at all? When you feel like you suffocate and drown at the same time? When no words escape your lips but the pressure grows, when it spreads and lingers underneath your skin, more vile and brutal than ever?

I turned to music and to books, found solace in the words of others who had experienced the same, who asked the same questions, who ran into the same walls which were too thick and heavy to break through.

Every so often I would think, What now? How could I possibly leave without Shari? How could I stay when she was no longer here?

Life has a funny way of pushing you into places and situations that you haven’t seen coming. And it seems that no matter how much you try to prepare for the unforeseeable, things always turn out differently from what you imagined.

John Lennon once said that “Life is what happens to you while you are busy making other plans.”

The Lumineers sing that “It’s better to feel pain than nothing at all – the opposite of love’s indifference.”

And Soko asks “If you’re not ready for love how can you be ready for life?”

I agree with them all.

When I woke up this morning the sky was blue and the sun was shining. Heavy rainfalls throughout the past days have transformed this place into a smooth oasis of fresh shades of green and new beginnings. Birds chirped outside my window. And I knew that I am not okay but I am okay. I miss Shari. I miss her so much. In all the small and big moments of my life I wish she was here and I hate that she isn’t. One day, I hope, we’ll be together again.

And that’s really all it comes down to. No big revelation, no earth-shattering realization, no final turning point. Loss hurts. Saying goodbye hurts. There’s never enough time. All we can do is live. So purely, so honestly, so deeply that in the end, we know it was real and worth it.

Dear life: pain, grief, and new beginnings

 

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