Tears That Could Fill the Ocean

I thought a sentence this morning that absolutely broke me open.

"I can remember how her hand feels."

Hands that cared for me for 38 years.

I believe the early morning belongs to thinkers, grievers, and wonderers. As I sit here with tears in my eyes and my body shaking, I find myself met with so many things at once: grief for the childhood I never got. For the violence a small body didn't choose but experienced anyway. For the life my mom could have had if she'd known she was a girl worthy of love. For the innocence my sister should have been able to carry longer, but life had other plans. For my son, given to parents who were still babies themselves; he deserved more. For my mom-mom. For every hit my husband has taken to stay with me.

All of it sits in my chest. The tears fall like they never have. For a moment, I wonder if I will drown in them, if they could fill the sea four times over.

And then, without meaning to, some of the heaviness lifts.

There is light. There is weightlessness. There is joy for staying.

Because there was a time I didn't want to.

And in this reflection I see that grief is a living, embodied thing. It is not just an emotion. It is a state of being. It is in your chest, your eyes, your breath. I remember from The Fault in Our Stars: "Pain demands to be felt."

That it does, old friend. That it does.

Comments

Arslan

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