I just finished a magazine interview about Just Show Up. It’s been a while since I’ve done one. Since I’ve talked about all of it. And her.
And now my stomach aches.
I think the pain gets swirled around. Comes to the surface once again. It hurts to remember.
So what do I do with that?
Do I stop remembering?
I don’t think that is the answer.
I’m not sure what is.
Recognizing, maybe, that we existed and it mattered. She mattered.
Realizing it’s okay to miss her sassy voice and sense of humor. That doesn’t make me weak. I think when the waters get all churned up, we have to accept it for what it is. Life isn’t a pristine swimming pool. It’s a murky lake and crashing ocean waves. And in order to swim, we accept the good with the bad.
And so I smile. Remembering. Thankful even, that she’s not in pain like she once was. She doesn’t suffer. Not anymore. And that lifts my heart. She doesn’t miss me. But I can miss her.
And there’s nothing wrong with that.