Three Years

Three years ago, my world fell apart. I've re-built my world but it will never be the same. And, to be honest, the tragedy that struck then has been a miracle for me, in many unexpected ways. That's not to say that I don't wish I could change things, it's merely accepting that I cannot change what happened and that I learned to take the good with the bad, cowgirl-up, and soldier on.

Today I was revisiting old journal and blog entries and I came across something that has given me a great deal of peace:

And then it came to me. I would own my grief. The prominent emotion of the past several weeks. The pain and sorrow I feel is so intimately mine. I feel it in a way that no one else possibly could. My frame of reference is different from everyone else's. So is my heart. The grief is mine and mine alone. I know I'm not the only one grieving, but I'm the only experiencing it as only I can. I am a true believer in the idea that all our challenges and trials teach us something, if we are willing to learn.

I can already identify the ways this tragedy has changed me. Changed my heart and my thoughts. It has made me softer. A strange word to describe someone, but very appropriate. I've not lost my razor-sharp wit or sense of humor, but it's not as cutting as it was before the accident. I've been lost in my own emotion, the pain and loss making me vulnerable and raw. So much more accepting of others. Not as cruel and heartless as before. Soft.