We need a better word

We need a better word

The female body is such a powerful, loving-but-stern gate keeper for the threshold of life, and she has an array of incredibly subtle and nuanced chemical tests she runs and reads and runs again. She rarely fails. We may not understand her. But she knows what she's doing. She learned it from her mother, and her mother's mother, back literally to the trees and the caves. She's one of those natural forces we can't negotiate with, we can only sit in awe and wonder and thank her for her work, and marvel over its results, and not so much question her process. We can't fully know it, and we can't fully understand it. We can only admire it. And damn it all, sometimes we're forced to just try and accept it as best we can through our tears.

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Culture of numbness

Culture of numbness

Occasionally I observe people legitimately upset, lamenting the lives of the deceased. Those people, I’ve witnessed, appear to embrace their emotions across the span of their lives. Grief, rage, sadness—it’s all there, on sometimes raucous (yet honest) display. I am not vocal, yet I have suffered. And having suffered, I believe we are connected in a way that the naïve are not.

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The intense and the ugly

The intense and the ugly

Six years and it’s all come full circle. I remember it all and the tinge of sadness that constantly lingered has erupted into a volcano. I find myself doing the usual retracing of steps, reading of emails, counting of days. I can go on and on about what was, and it still won’t change what is. So, the tears remain at the base of my eyes and the ache grows inside me, because surely it has been long enough? Surely.

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The aftershocks

The aftershocks

It’s hard to inspire, or to stuff down the hard feelings, when my sense of security has a crack in its foundation. Nothing feels safe or guaranteed anymore. Chaos rears its ugly head at families and homes every day, and I know mine is fair game even though we’ve been struck by lightning already. My ears are always searching for the acknowledgement of chaos (e.g., “hopefully” instead of “definitely”) when I listen to plans and assumptions for the future.

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