The view from the other side

I saw a woman the other day. She was sitting in her car completely oblivious to the hustle and bustle going on in the world around her. I'm not sure what drew my attention to her. It must have been her body language, the hunched over shoulders, the dropped head, the look of utter defeat. In that split second I saw myself.

She was crying. Crying isn't even the right word for it. Bawling? Hysterical? Tears streamed down her face and her hands fluttered between her lap and her face as if she had no control over them. Her shoulders were heaving and her shirt was soaked with tears.

I paused from putting away my groceries in the car. What to do? Society tells us that it's wrong to intrude on someone's personal space. That a stranger doesn't walk up to someone else's car to...what...offer comfort? I didn't even know why she was crying. The only thing I knew for sure was that that kind of crying doesn't happen because you broke a nail. That kind of crying is the result of immeasurable grief. I stood frozen, unsure what to do and my heart aching because I could so easily relate.

I've been her. I've sat in my car and screamed and cried simply because I knew I was alone. I wish I could have told her that things do get better. That whatever was hurting her would lessen with time. That grief that causes that kind of break down leaves a wound so deep that it will never completely heal. But that's ok.

Something else happens with wounds that never heal. A very thin layer of protection grows over top of that wound. Like a thin layer of silk or gauze. Every once in a while, when you're brave enough, you can go back to that wound and look at the world through it. What a view it is. Most people can appreciate the beauty in this picture:



But is it enough for you to stop driving? Do you take the time out of your day to get out of your vehicle and revel in the moment? Can it bring tears to your eyes because you think that that scene, that moment, was put there just for you? Do you literally stop to smell the roses? Have you laid on the ground in spring just to be able to smell the new growth more clearly? I have. If that makes me crazy, then I am.

Three weeks after losing Kaycie I was back at the doctor's office and being handed a prescription for birth control pills. That was my darkest day. I couldn't shut off the tears and bawled for hours straight. Slowly, very slowly, things got better from that day forward. It wasn't at all like walking from the dark into the light, it was more like waking up one morning after a long cold winter and realizing that the sun was shining and the birds were singing. A long slow process that, at times, was one step forward and two steps back. A learning process that will continue for the rest of my life.

Society tells me that I shouldn't have approached that woman, that her grief was personal. But I hope she has someone in her life who can tell her: there's a view to be had and you'll get there.