It is true that you cannot fully understand the vicious pain and suffering that a person mourning the loss of a loved one is going through, unless your feet have been in similar shoes. As my mom mentioned, you cannot say to a widowed mother that they are not alone when you kiss your husband every night before bed and wake up in his arms. If you have a partner to make important decisions regarding your family, you have no right to speak about loneliness to someone who doesn’t. However, even people who have seen G-d claim their loved ones as his fail to mention that when you lose someone, you lose yourself as well.
When people say that someone had taken a piece of their heart to the grave, that is the piece my father took with him. He stole that unbroken girl from me, and instead left me a girl with wounds far too deep to ever fully heal. I wish I could look that girl in the eye, hold her hand in my own, and prepare her for the bumpy road that lay ahead. Wipe her tears with the back of my finger and explain that some days, the agony in her heart is going to make its way to her mind, and it is going to poison the smile on her face.
It is okay to want to be the person you are not now, I get it. The world has forced us all to change and adapt to its new set of rules. I have come to understand that the people we are now are the people we are meant to be. The girl I was before was not strong enough to handle the death of her father, but I am now. She never would never have written her rawest emotions for the world to read because she would have locked them away instead of taking the time to understand her feelings.
Guys, the world does not ask for permission when it comes to forcing change upon us. However, it is our job as human beings to allow ourselves to grow and evolve. There are situations that will occur in our lives that our current selves are not equipped to handle, and that is okay. That is why we adapt. Sometimes, I wish I was still that 14 ½ girl who’s life looked very different from my own, but through grieving, and acceptance, I have come to realize that wishing I was someone I wasn’t is not the answer. I am not that 14 ½ year old and she is not me. We are two different people who lived in the same body and shared the same soul. I miss her wholeheartedly, but I’ll meet up with her again. And when I do, we will both have fathers.
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