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brave enough

Here’s the thing about me: I often think I’m braver than I really am. It isn’t delusions of grandeur. It might be delusions of hope. Instances of swelling promise that lead me to believe – not that I’m bulletproof – but that I’m tougher than my sensitive nature allows. Most of the time, I can put up quite a good front, which occasionally fools even me.

But today? Today is not one of those days. Today, it’s two years since my mother died, and I thought it would bother me less if I stuck to my routine. Except, that’s not how feelings work. I maybe tried to strong-arm them into submission, only to fail miserably.

 People always tell you the same (well-meant) things: it will get easier; you will feel better with time; and it gets better. Except with respect to losing a loved one, it doesn’t get better. It doesn’t get easier. It just gets different. You just learn to deal with it the best you can. This sometimes means crying at ridiculous things and needing people in a way you’re not entirely comfortable with.

Here’s another thing about me: I loathe asking for things from people. Loathe it. If you don’t offer, most of the time, I won’t ask. It is something I’m working on, but for now, it means that if I have asked you for something – I have not done it lightly. And it probably cost me more than it would someone else. I am stubborn. I have a ridiculous amount of pride. And did I mention I’m stubborn? Because I am.

This also means that I love with unfailing strength and passion. Life is short. Life is too short. I know this like I know that the sky is full of unseen stars. Things that happen in our lives often change us. My mother’s death was no exception. I’ve always been stubborn when it comes to knowing my own heart. No one can ever talk me out of my feelings, though a few daring souls have tried. But since my mother’s passing, I made a promise to myself to make a real effort to let those I love know that I love them, even when it may be unwise. Even when it might be inconvenient or difficult. Perhaps especially then. Because no matter what we tell ourselves, or how we try to wall ourselves off, we all need love.

 So, in memory of my mother, who loved fiercely and without hesitation, I’m going to ask you this: if you love someone, tell them. Forget all your fear and just say it. Forget all the ways it might not fit into your plan. Forget everything except that feeling.

 Be not only brave enough to love – but also brave enough to say it out loud. Don’t keep it to yourself. Don’t try to hold it in. Don’t you dare try to hide it. Because you never know when everything will change. Take this moment, this chance, and seize it. Darlings, you owe it to yourself – trust me on that. Love is not a pet to be kept in a cage – or a madwoman to be hidden in an attic.

Let it out. It’s the truest, scariest, best, wonderful thing you can do in life. Say the words out loud, and you might change a life. You might change your life. And love, revealed, is the absolute best change there ever is.

Categories: Uncategorized
  1. August 7, 2014 at 3:02 pm

    So very beautiful and I am sending you so much love. Earlier today, I saw a note from a woman to her brother on his second birthday “in spirit”. I wondered if it was his birthday or if she had changed the way she was looking at it from death to a birth into spirit. I don’t know what dulls that pain, but I have always loved Dia de los Muertos because there is a chance to celebrate that person that you still love so very much. I like the idea of a birth into spirit day even more. You can have balloons, or not. You can have a huge chocolate cupcake. Or not. Whatever feels right to celebrate the life of this beautiful, dear person, you get to do. Thinking of you today and holding you close. XOXO

  2. August 7, 2014 at 11:37 pm

    I don’t know who decided that your feelings about losing someone would “get better”. I suppose what they mean is that the moment you lose someone you love, the rest of the world stops and turns grey for a while, and then slowly, over some unique amount of time, the light returns and colors break through and the rest of the world picks up where it left off. But your feelings haven’t changed. You still miss your someone, and you still retain the right to miss them whenever you think of them, and even miss them more on special days.

    We all muddle through it and do the best we can. It doesn’t get “easier” or “better”. We just become familiar with how it all feels and know we can find the light again.

  3. August 9, 2014 at 1:10 pm

    Because even if the person we tell doesn’t reciprocate the feelings, at least we know we’ve done all that we can and the rest is up to them. If we hold in the feelings and never express them, we will always wonder how the other person feels.

  4. August 10, 2014 at 8:27 am

    strongly relate to this…

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