Live in this difficult day too. Live in its sorrow, its uncertainty, its trembling hope. Live minute to minute, averting my gaze so as to avoid peering too far ahead of myself. Move slowly among the memories and their unboxing, the wistful wishes and what-might-have-beens, the celebrations and happy remembrances. Feel what you feel when you feel, but breathe in and out of each moment regardless. Because time will pass, and when I least expect it, even the sharpest edges will soften and peace will be made. Maybe it’s best to read the book only a page at a time, making notes in the margins I’ll be better prepared to read another day.
In the meantime, don’t go putting the cart before the horse or look ahead to some other day, imagining or assuming its an easier day to live. I know there’s shadows on the sunny days too, and it’s worth noting that rain doesn’t always fall from clouds. Sometimes hope arrives when I find even a crumpled, old wad of tissue in my pocket when I really need a tissue. Or from taking pen in hand in anticipation of a difficult day.
4 thoughts on “in this day too”
Your gentle words never fail to bring a smile. I love the hope you found in a crumpled tissue. I have plenty of those and now they will be reminders of hope.
Thank you Debby! It was a tough day, and I sure was in need of a tissue! ❤️
I think it is a good thing to sit with our sadness and grief when we need to so.
It is part of the healing process and helps us to be receptive to the restorative power of hope.
I like your use of the “unboxing “ of memories.
My sister is moving out of the home she shared with our mother, so we needed to sort through my mother’s belongings. It was harder by far than I anticipated, but writing helped. It was literally unboxing memory after memory. Grief is ongoing, isn’t it? And there’s so many stages and types and ways of experiencing it. Thank you very much for listening and reading and helping.