There are so many quotes about time and its ability to heal. Time heals all wounds. It just takes time. Time will make it better. I’ve been told to take it day by day, and that, in time, I will learn to live with the pain and it will get easier. You will be ok, it just takes time.
Time has gone by, continues to go by, and I don’t feel better. I do not feel healed. Living with the loss of my father has not gotten any easier. In all honesty, it has gotten more difficult. The constant pain in my heart beats louder and the gaping hole that has formed continues to grow. I am empty, and my reaction to this emptiness has been to shut down, protect myself, and close my heart. I feel that I am getting smaller each day and I haven’t been able to work my way out.
The mention of time only serves to make it worse. Time is an endless space in front of me, filled with pain and loss, reminding me that I will never again have my father here with me. For the rest of my life, I won’t be able to call him, hug him, or hear him laugh again. Time is an unfair memory, reminding me that I simply did not have enough of it with him. There was and is so much more to do and say, if only there had been more time. Time is a fruitless longing, reminding me that all I want is more of what I cannot have, what I most desire. I crave it, yearn for it, so deeply that it physically hurts.
Time has gone by and the result is anger, the type of anger that has anchored itself down so deeply that it is always there and always ready to go. I am angry at everything and everyone for many reasons and for no reasons at all. Mad at my husband, my friends. Mad at the locker door that won’t open. Mad at the world and its unfairness, wanting to scream on a daily basis about just how unfair this all is. Worst of all, I am mad at my dad for leaving, for not being here with us, and leaving us so soon. And this, of course, fills me with guilt, leaving me to be mostly mad at myself. Mad for being mad at my dad, mad that I wasn’t able to do more to make him better, mad that I am stuck in this and can’t seem to find my way out.
This is where I am, weighed down by time and immobilized by its effects. I feel numb, as if I am getting through my days without any real joy or passion. I have simply been existing and finally, this too makes me angry. It doesn’t feel good and it certainly is not how my father would want me to live life. I hear this in my head, feel this in my heart, so I am taking the steps, even though it feels like I am walking forcefully through quick sand. I am beginning to search for the way out, knowing that I am willing to do whatever it takes to get there.
I promised to share this process, no matter how painful or ugly it may be. I can still hear the voice in my heart guiding me, whether I choose to listen or not. Today I choose to listen and take the steps toward healing. Tomorrow might be a different story, but I will cross that bridge when I get there.
There is one more thing about time: Time is a gift, a precious gift that holds many lessons. A gift that I will learn to cherish and appreciate deeply as I make my way through this journey of healing.