Daring Me Back

It hurts because it matters ~ John Green

Daring me back

It has been over twenty years since the sudden death of my father. His death, the same day as my husband’s birth, can still trigger the sting of grief that leaves a wound of unresolved feelings. I resent that his weakness to smoking cigarettes reduced his life, yet is that what created my strength to quit? 

Bereavement curdles like a misunderstanding of time, as I gather up the courage daring me back to the living. Feeling bruised by the bitterness, my regrets splinter with envy. Writing about the loss both heals and magnifies its finality as I wrestle with the brevity of his life while my life stretches beyond.

How ought I process the heartache, and still acknowledge the void? Search the lessons, then reconcile the hurt with a balm of hope? Each step allows my grief to shift into something new. A chasm from the hollowness to where the light still glows. Like the return of spring after a long cold winter, there is courage daring me back.

Slowly I release my grip on the sorrow, at least for a bit. Observing my life with fresh perspective, noticing there is joy beneath the sadness. Words help to untangle these thoughts as I process my grief. Folding the sadness into another day I recognize a smile while still wondering what could have been.