Healing
"There is truth to understanding that nobody understands. Your tragedy is unique to you."
I found myself glued to this journal, this person, who showed some semblance of understanding. I found the memories flooding back -- the fresh wave of pain, the comfort in knowing that I wasn't alone.
Two years ago, I wrote about how I'd see her in the faces of strangers, and I would turn to stare; but one blink would jolt me into the realisation that it wasn't her. I knew this in my head; that it couldn't have been her, but I allowed myself to hope... that someway, somehow, she would come back.
Shortly after, I no longer saw her, or, if I did, I learned not to stare, I learned to ignore the impossible. It was a habit I was only too glad to acquire. I wondered what kind of person that made me -- if it meant that I was selfish, or callous, for wanting to forget; for wanting this pain to go away.
But I realised that it wasn't possible. To forget. No matter how much I may have wanted to. Not a single day passes that I don't think of her, that I don't miss her; but whilst forgetting is not an option, healing is. Almost five years now, and we are still taking baby steps, we are on our road to recovery; we have a God who heals.
Some days, there are less tears; some days, the pain is a little duller; some days, we can block out the gruesome images and just remember the beauty. Baby steps -- even if it takes us our whole lives.
God is with you, Daryl. Every baby step of the way.
I found myself glued to this journal, this person, who showed some semblance of understanding. I found the memories flooding back -- the fresh wave of pain, the comfort in knowing that I wasn't alone.
Two years ago, I wrote about how I'd see her in the faces of strangers, and I would turn to stare; but one blink would jolt me into the realisation that it wasn't her. I knew this in my head; that it couldn't have been her, but I allowed myself to hope... that someway, somehow, she would come back.
Shortly after, I no longer saw her, or, if I did, I learned not to stare, I learned to ignore the impossible. It was a habit I was only too glad to acquire. I wondered what kind of person that made me -- if it meant that I was selfish, or callous, for wanting to forget; for wanting this pain to go away.
But I realised that it wasn't possible. To forget. No matter how much I may have wanted to. Not a single day passes that I don't think of her, that I don't miss her; but whilst forgetting is not an option, healing is. Almost five years now, and we are still taking baby steps, we are on our road to recovery; we have a God who heals.
Some days, there are less tears; some days, the pain is a little duller; some days, we can block out the gruesome images and just remember the beauty. Baby steps -- even if it takes us our whole lives.
God is with you, Daryl. Every baby step of the way.
posted by Laughingcow at 4:03 am
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