Thursday, April 19, 2012

You Will Be Ok. I Promise.


"You're kinda proof that, you know, you'll be ok."

She said the words, and I knew she was right. Our kids played, we were laughing about their faces and voices, and she said it as we shared some moments from our lives.

"You can go through some of the most painful things, and survive. And have a good life."

She's right, you know. Though it feels silly and small to say. But it's true.

But here's what I'm going to tell you.

There might come some moments in life where you feel like the sun will and should crash into the ocean forever. It might feel like your heart is being shattered from the inside out, and you are feeling every little shard go deep. Into your flesh. Your soul. Your lungs. Your will to open your eyes, to think, to make coffee.

I've stood face to face with someone who confirmed every worst fear about myself. Someone who took every insecurity I ever dared whisper, and shouted that yes, indeed, they all were true. That was the weapons they used before taking out my knees completely.

I've been on the receiving end of phone calls of death too soon. Of secret lies revealed. Of my own sin exposed.


And yet, today we walked these streets. She skipped and sang about the tulips. The sun was warm and all those memories that once landed me on the floor in tears?

Well, they're just memories. Distant ones. Some of them faint. Some of them gone completely. The pain doesn't sting anymore. My heart doesn't bleed when you mention names, places, things. Sometimes I wince, but even then, I find there's a rich balm that covers quickly.

Today, I'm sipping on the most wonderful latte. Tomorrow, I don't know what the day will bring. I know that there are things ahead that I dare not think of because I'm scared of all that I don't know.

But I do know this,
you know what friend?
We'll be ok.
You will be ok. You will survive this.
Slowly, gently, daily,
breathe.
You cannot rush it, but one day you will wake and it won't be the first thing you think of.
I promise.

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