Well, I’m a half day late but that’s what comes from having a three year old in charge. Better late than never.
It is hard to imagine feeling happy again when you are at the beginning of grief or having to start over. There isn’t a lot of room for optimism. Pain is what you feel. There does eventually come a day when healing begins to dull the raw edges and life nudges you forward. Give it time and it will get better.
Being busy and focused seems like it helps, but I’m not so sure anymore. I believe now that a person is going to feel every bit of the pain, sooner or later, sharpened by the depth of their love. Sadness and tears and anger sneak up for as long as it takes to get them all out. There is no escaping grief. You can mask it, prolong it, pretend it isn’t there, or focus so hard you think you have it beat. In the end, if you love and love well, you will grieve until you are done when you lose that love.
We make choices. We embrace life. We learn from our mistakes or we chose to hide and not open our hearts again for fear of more pain. That’s a shame. Being vulnerable isn’t easy – especially for men – the women of my generation were raised vulnerable – but the poets tell us that what we gain from love outweighs the pain of losing that love.
Rose colored glasses or the magic of time? I don’t know. I am waiting for wisdom to clarify my questions. I have certainly felt the pain and I have shed the tears. I have paid my dues, but now I want to share joy and happiness with another. I want to grow – and not just grow older – but wiser and kinder and patient and funny. Maybe what I want is to see life through the eyes of a three year old!