“It never stops hurting, the big losses never do, it becomes a part of your bones. It rips you apart and leaves you to figure out what to do next. It becomes a part of who you are and runs through your life like thread, coloring everything you are and do. It has informed how I choose to live, what I do, how I love. You will ache and you will hurt but you will be feeling, remembering how much love there was and how much there still is; death can never touch that. You heal and the wound closes, becoming a scar to remind you how precious things are and how well you were loved…”
It’s quite insane.
5 years have passed since my love was taken but when the toughest month rolls around, even when equipped with an arsenal of optimism, friends and plans, there is a subtle nuance of loss present that unknowingly takes over my body.
I’m not sad or find myself crying, but I sleep in a bit longer, watch movies a bit more. Subtle differences that anytime of the year would seem out of place.
It’s almost like the the chill that’s left when you walk in from the cold. You’re warm and in a safe place, but still have a chill shake your whole being when taking off the coat and gloves.
It finds me. I stare down at the scar over my heart.
I breathe in and accept it.
The scar. The extra hot chocolates. The extra hours of sleep. The extra glass of wine. The extra tears that may creep in. The unknown. The welcome. The unwelcome. The part of me that I honorably hold eternally.