I read somewhere that when you lose someone close to you, you do not just lose them one time, you lose them over and over again. You lose them every dawn when you wake up to remember they’re not here, you lose them on every special day, every first without them, you lose them when you go to sleep and they’re not in your bed, when you sit down to eat dinner and there’s an empty chair. You lose them over and over again. Like “Ground Hog Day” or “50 First Dates.
But still you rise. You rise at the dawn reminding yourself, that the one person you never thought you could live without is gone; you rise knowing that every breath, every step feels like you are carrying 1,000 pounds of extra weight.
But still you rise. You rise at the dawn, knowing the day will be hard but you will find things that heal your body and your heart. You will make a list of those things that bring you comfort and joy, and you will find ways to add them back to your life. You will find things for you and your kids to look forward to, that will bring you all joy despite the pain of his absence.
But still you rise. You rise at the dawn despite the tears that come out of nowhere, leaving you in a puddle of your own tears, not understanding how this is your new life. But still you rise, loudly applauding every brave step your kids take and every obstacle you all overcome. Because there are so many obstacles to overcome.
But still you rise. In the nighttime, when the loneliness comes, you read old texts, watch old videos, and look for ways to feel him with you. You talk to him all day long, and you hear his voice in your heart. Pushing you to keep going, keep doing, living and loving as he did.
But still you rise brave one. But still you rise.
