The aftertaste of sorrow lingers. Still existent but no longer all consumed by its grip I manage to gasp for breath. Moments at a time, life begins its return. Coffee with a friend, here. Date with my husband, there. An unforced smile manages to break through on occasion. The thickness of grief prevented it before. But Light has broken and darkness is not so black as it was. Deep gashes and slashes in the soul begin to merge together again. Because this place is not foreign to me, I have confidence that time will heal. First one step, then another, each stronger than the one before. Though a sense of “why” may never be made, purpose will be found. He promises it. I trust. It’s faint, but there. This pain will be a gift.
A fluttering blink of the eyes reveals morning has remained reliable in breaking up the night. My body denies the truth but manages to transfer it’s achy bones to upright position. What a night! I stagger forward, stopping for a moment at the bay window overlooking the waterfall in the back yard that remains flowing after weary owners failed to turn it off. A few plastic forks remained in the yard since darkness fell on the party way to fast. I sigh.
DAY 17 (Read Day 1 “OK, Honey. Challenge Accepted!” Post)
Tiny white walled room, scarcely decorated, tightly cramped with a twin bed and mismatched dresser that my 10 year old frame barely could move between. As they say, “it wasn’t much” but it was all I needed, along with the oversized mirror over the dresser that could reflect my entire petite shape so long as I was standing on the stage, or, uh, my bed I mean.