I got up to go to work.
It was early, 7am. Very early for me...
I stepped out into the fresh air. It was cold, crisp, bitter. The frigid air nipped through my sweatshirt. I hopped into the car and began to drive, the world around me was still. Quiet. As I got a little further down the road I noticed the sunrise, so beautiful up ahead. It was tangerine with pink overlaid on broken clouds that floated aimlessly like broken dreams. They were beaten out, but there was a subtle beauty within it all.
I kept driving, and noticed the empty lot, to my right, wasn't empty anymore. Where once there was a school, the same school my husband attended as a child, it had became an empty lot during the cities mass school demolition last year. Today there is the beginning of a playground, erected almost overnight. What was once whole, became broke, and is being reborn again. It was a good way to start the new year, giving me faith again. Perhaps there is hope after all.
And surrounding this, is something I can not explain. I woke up today and felt like this enormous weight, that I didn't even know I was carrying, has been lifted from my shoulders. This morning, when I woke up, I felt I could finally accept that my child is gone. I felt like, finally, I can let him go. I can stop holding each little memory like a life preserver, as if should I forget one detail he would disappear. He will not disappear, but I have to let him go now. I have to stop looking behind me, and I need to start looking ahead of me. Looking behind is fine at times, but I can not do this everyday. There is this peace that I can not explain. I'm sure it will leave me by tonight, or tomorrow, or the next day, and the pain will come back and become all too real. But right now, today, I can smile. I can accept that my child is gone, and he's never coming back. I can let him go, I can dance in the rain instead of waiting for the storm to pass. I am going to be okay today.