This life is not all sadness and sorrow, death and darkness.
It was. For a very, very long time all I could see was distant flickers of light.
They were just enough to keep me going but not enough to lift the utter blackness that surrounded me.
Now I would characterize life as hazy gray-most things still filtered through a lens of grief but generally brighter.
I can see and feel the change. It’s not as hard to get up most mornings. Not as hard to put dates on a calendar. Not as hard to commit to social activities and to actually show up. Not as hard to talk about family life with strangers and acquaintances. Not as hard to do so many things that were practically impossible in the first weeks, months and years.
I am so, so grateful.
And there are good things-very good things-happening in my family.
I’m even more grateful for those.
A baby who could have had a sad story has a happy one! He is growing and grinning and getting ready (within the month, we think) to escape the hospital. His dad is home from deployment. His mom is healing like a champ from severe illness and from her surgery. They are forming a happy trio and full of love.
My niece is graduating high school. All the kids in that generation are grown ups just as we finally added one to begin the next.
My mother and father are still here to enjoy these things.
If you are afraid you will never, ever feel joy again, I understand. That was one of the most frightening aspects of early days and months and years. I could not imagine having that heavy, dark cloud envelope me for the rest of my life.
It seems impossible it could ever be otherwise.
But I’m here to tell you-it doesn’t have to be that way. If you reach for the tiny lights you can just barely see in the distance and make whatever feeble and faltering steps forward, your heart will learn to feel something besides sorrow again.
At first it may only be a split-second when a smile nearly, but not quite, crosses your lips.
Then it might be an hour when you realize you’ve actually been completely engaged and present with your family or good friend.
One day you will be slipping into bed and think, “Today was a pretty good day”. It will shock you, sadden you and encourage you all at the same time.
It’s not a smooth upward journey that lands you out of the pit of grief.
It’s a bumpy road that tosses you around. Highs and lows, ups and downs. And it lasts a lifetime.
But if you purpose to hold on with both hands, to stay the course, keep heading toward the bits of light, laughter, love and loveliness teasing you in the distance, you will make progress.
Bad things have happened-the worst, in fact.
Bad things still happen.
But good things happen too.
Very good things.
I want to be present for them, don’t you?