I finished the book I was reading last night, “How To Walk Away.” It was a great read and well written. There was sadness and there was joy.
The subject matter was a lesson for us all. That happiness comes in all shapes and sizes. The happiness we yearn for may not be the happiness we find.
And something you’ve all been telling me since Abi died was on full display in this book.
It takes great pain to feel great joy. It’s like a pendulum swinging back and forth between extremes.
I miss Abi. I cry for her. I feel like someone has yanked an appendage from my body. She was so tied to me she was part of me.
I can’t even imagine the possibility of feeling that same degree of joy, balanced against the degree of sorrow I now feel. But I accept that it could be so.
Grief takes you by the hand and leads you. You cannot pull away. It owns you for a time.
You stand at the shore and see something curious far out at sea. It beckons to you like a shiny coin. You wade into the water to see it better. And then you’re in too deep.
Maybe that’s how grief is. You have to give up trying to control it because it cannot be controlled. You have no choice but to give in to it.
The vast ocean lifts you up with its strong watery hands. Until it finally delivers you back to land. When it knows you are strong enough to stand on your own two feet again.
Sorrow and loss is crushing. But after walking barefoot on broken seashells, finally there is just sand. And you think maybe you’ve come through the worst of it.