Life goes on. That's what they say. That's what I've been told, that's what I've told myself, that's what I've told others upon the loss of a loved one. Truth be told, it's but a half-truth. Sure, your life goes on. You wake up happy to find a pulse and get on with whatever your life is made of. But a story within your story has come to a full stop. Just like that? Just like that. You don't get to see how it plays out. The future has come to a full stop. Plans you had, dreams you had, are now plans and dreams frozen in time.
Life goes on. But so does death. Those we lose will remain lost, tomorrow, next month, five years from now. The loss is forever. It's been five months since my mother-in-law died, but I haven't had the heart to tell my husband the bad news yet; that it will always hurt, that there is no use trying to run and hide, pain and grief ride a horse that never tires.
I'll start with the good news. What won't last forever is the bleak, the dark, the black. Colors will reclaim their rightful place as the black block grows smaller and smaller. And love...love and gratitude never die. You never bury those, those you get to keep and cherish for the rest of your days. And some days will be better than others and soon most days will be better than the rest and maybe, as time goes by, that stunted story will make sense or, at the very least, you will come to accept that it never will, and that's just the way it is.
