Lessons

It's high time I took some advice. I've been told to be more open about these, "feelings." Perhaps I'll regret it but I'll never know until I try. That's one of the things I'm figuring out as I go. When do you take the leap and when do you hang back? Sometimes you don't have a choice. Sometimes you get thrown into a learning experience head first.

I've always hated that sickening feeling when you suddenly try to remember if there's another step after the one you just took on the stairs. You're hovering for just a split second unsure if you'll be safe the next moment or flat on your face. It's the feeling of losing hold of the rope someone told you to hang on to; that second after it slips away. The feeling of knowing something's gone. And no matter how hard you run or jump or pray or beg, it's never coming back.

The last few months I've been running. I've been jumping, praying, begging, raging and desolate. I want something back. I opened my arms wider than I knew they could go. My heart learned it had space it never had before. I was scared but I was ready. And then, just like that, I was empty. My arms were empty. They would stay that way forever. And there was nothing, absolutely nothing, I could do about it.

It's taken this long to learn that being a control-freak doesn't mean you have control. I have no control. Oogway (Kung Fu Panda. Don't judge me.) was right. There is only the illusion of control. I can plant the seed but I can't make it the kind of tree I want. And, I learned, I can't even make it grow unless it was meant to.

That's a good lesson and all but I would have been ok not having to learn it. I never asked for so much hurt. I never even asked for a seed to lose. But I got one anyway. They say God never gives you more than you can hold. I felt like He did, I'm still resentful, but I learned. There is no reason to cut my nose off to spite my face. I lost. I hurt. I may as well get a lesson out of it.

I learned that my arms weren't empty after all. They were full. Full of a husband who proved yet again his compassion, patience and kindness. Full of parents who love me and wish they could protect me. And friends who would be there for me if I'd let them, and some who worked their way in anyway when I didn't. I learned I made myself a very strong little family. And yes, I want it a little bit bigger. Just by one little person. But it's still dear to me without one.

I'm so grateful. I'm thankful for things I had missed. I'm still sad. I'm still angry and resentful. But I'm also full of love. Love that was given to me by others.

Someday maybe a different seed will make it to a tree. Though I've learned that even if it does I can't control if it's cut down young or in its old age. All I can do is give it the love that's been given me and try to pass on the lessons I've been taught. I want her back and I always will. That empty feeling probably won't go away. And I'm learning that's ok too. It doesn't have to be my whole life, it can just be a reminder that she happened. She was there and she was loved. Someone who was loved should be missed.

Well that's that. It's time to move on. It's easy to get stuck in grief and stew for years or even the rest of your life. The more you love something the more "moving on" sounds heartless. What we fail to understand is that you can take them with you when you go. If you put down the burden of guilt and anxiety and pain, all you have left is the memory of something full of love and promise. That is light enough to carry with you, close to your heart, always.

So come on Chloe. We have more life to explore.