just keep me where the light is

Let me be crystal clear: if you’ve faced a tragedy and someone tells you in any way, shape or form that your tragedy was meant to be, that it happened for a reason, that it will make you a better person, or that taking responsibility for it will fix it, you have every right to remove them from your life. Grief is brutally painful. Grief does not only occur when someone dies. When relationships fall apart, you grieve. When opportunities are shattered, you grieve. When dreams die, you grieve. When illnesses wreck you, you grieve. So I’m going to repeat a few words I’ve uttered countless times; words so powerful and honest they tear at the hubris of every jackass who participates in the debasing of the grieving: Some things in life cannot be fixed. They can only be carried.

Let it pass; April is over, April is over. There are all kinds of love in the world, but never the same love twice.

I have spoken to a lot of parents who refuse to ask questions because they adhere strictly to this train of thought: ‘This isn’t a big deal, I love my kid and that is that. I don’t need to know anything to love my kid, period.’ While I applaud the tenacity of that love and commitment, we all have more to learn, always. Your questions and your search for continued knowledge and conversation—those things show your love for your child more than anything else.

I feel as if I’m made to understand but not to be understood.