“I’m convinced that tragedy wants to harden us, and that our mission is to never let it.” – Felicity
Life, lately, has been, well, interesting.
It’s been full of heartbreak. Not in the sense that some man spun his web and ripped my little pink heart out. But in the sense that someone, very dear to me for my whole life, very dear to my mother and to one (and to many) of my best friends, is no longer with us. Unexpectedly. And life, for all of us, will no longer be the same. And as we sit together – as we have for many nights over the course of the past week – we try to move on. We bring her up in conversation as though nothing has changed. We express anger in her leaving us too soon, in that God always takes the very best from us, when we have so much left to learn from them. We come together reminded that she loved those times when we were all together. I hear her voice as I go about my every day. And tears come to my eyes as I think to myself I hope I can always hear her voice. We remember how she handled everything with grace. With silent compassion. With a smile, an ever-so-slight roll of the eyes, an understanding nod, a loving hug.
Last week I remember harping on petty things. That [she] doesn’t like me for some reason that I can’t begin to understand. That [his] feelings might be hurt because of what I said or, more importantly, didn’t say. That [she’s] not going to get over my sudden change of plans.
Then suddenly everything changed. And I keep being reminded – by Mama, by my friends, by a family who shows strength beyond my realm of understanding – to spread goodness, to never hesitate telling a friend that you love them, and to surround yourself with people that you cherish. Always.