I know you don’t feel safe right now. I know it feels like the world is shifting beneath you, faster than the time it takes to find your feet. I know how uncertain everything feels to you and how much pain you are carrying.
I could tell you that it will get better soon, that you can close your eyes and magically return to that place where everything felt okay, that from here on out it’s going to be an easy ride.
But I won’t tell you any of that because it would be a lie, and I would never lie to you.
The truth is I don’t know if it gets better soon and returning isn’t much of an option now you’ve seen what you’ve seen, now you’ve lived what you’ve lived, now you’ve lost what you’ve lost.
What I can tell you is that you are not alone. That I am right here with you and I will hold your hand for as long as it takes for you to steady yourself and as you learn how to move those feet forwards again.
It’s not easy, this life.
Some days come along and knock you down harder than you’ve ever been knocked down before. And then another comes by and does the same, and you wonder how you ever managed to get up the first time.
And it hurts. It really, really hurts.
Tell me where it hurts.
Tell me, everything. I’m listening.
Give me your language for each of your pains, your unending griefs, your tired aches. Show me your wounds and let them breathe. Allow your heart to crack wide open as you sift through its broken walls to see what still fits and if new pieces have been made.
Does any of it still fit? Has your heart changed shape and size? Does it sound the same as it beats and bleeds and bleeds?
Do you know your heart?
I don’t have easy answers for you, answers never did come easy for me, but I’ll sit with you in the questions for as long as you need; those deep unanswerable questions that live in my bones and carry me home.
So take all the time you need, love. I’m here. I’m right here with you.