I lay here listening to the world wake up slowly. Cars start driving down the road on the way to work. Footsteps shuffle to the bathroom. I can almost hear the black of night turn to grey as light slowly brightens the room. The sounds start to fill the air. The silence thru the night was so comforting, enveloping me, hugging me as I sit here alternating between crying and being all cried out. I resent these sounds of the world waking, they’re telling me I need to put on my appropriate face and act like a normal human being when I just want to curl into the fetal position and wail.
I’m also grateful for these sounds. They ground me and remind me that no matter what, the sun rises each day and this life is bigger than me and my grief, and that I need to get over myself. I vacillate between these two extremes. I wonder why. Why despite a truly wonderful life do I want more? Why despite a truly wonderful life does one facet of life evade me?
I know it doesn’t matter why. I know this too shall pass. I know memories will fade. I know I will survive and thrive. I know this world can be cruel and unfair. I know I will cry more than is necessary. I know I will miss the darkness of the night, when I can stop pretending everything is alright and I can be the visceral animal I am and feel too much. The darkness of night allows me to do this.
I know I will put on my brave face for the light of day and live my good life. But some moments I’m tired. Sometimes it’s all too much. My head throbs from too much wine, because I’d rather feel the pain in my head than the pain in my heart.
I lay here with too many thoughts, and I lay here empty, void of feelings, because I’ve felt too much. I try to shut it all out, this day, this pain, this loss. But responsibility beckons and pushes me to my feet. And I am so grateful. Yet I look forward to the darkness when I can fall to my knees again under the weight of it all.
Some days it hurts. Some days you realize things didn’t turn out the way you wanted. “Some days” reminds me I’ve been given the gift of another day. So it doesn’t matter why. It doesn’t matter why I was given another day. It doesn’t matter why I suffer a loss. It doesn’t matter why good things come to an end.
It doesn’t matter why the sun slowly fills the room every morning. I must get up and make my own noises in the light of day. The darkness allows me to make other noises. I’m grateful for both, and I’m grateful for the things that make me create these noises, the things that make me laugh and cry. Today I’m looking forward to the comfort of darkness. We’ll see what tomorrow brings.