some of my friends are mourning today.
people who have seen me walk through the valley of darkness,
the kind that is brought by the taking of a light,
are experiencing the lack of sun in this moment.
i have tried to pretend like i am the expert on all things loss.
a badge i wore with pride,
battle scars showing and dirt still under my fingernails.
i run to people who are hurting.
i am not afraid of the fire.
i am not afraid to run into the upside down car that might explode at any moment.
i do not see the danger,
i only see the human begging for mercy,
trapped by the very thing meant for safety.
so i run to them.
because i think i am some glimmer of hope.
all of this sounds great, right?
these are the words used after the wreckage is cleaned up.
after all the stitches have been sown.
after you buckle up again and drive down the same bridge that you flipped on.
what we don’t mention is how many times we didn’t go out
because driving seemed scary.
or how many turns we took to avoid the road we fell on.
or how many crashing noises took us back to the moment we found ourselves under the wreckage.
i can talk about these things in hindsight.
and so can you one day.
and sure we all seem like heroes and conquering victims in the aftermath.
there are no words in the moment.
the moment you are pulled out from the car,
you cannot convey what your brain is saying.
we do not use words. we hold one another.
we bring it in because the closer we are the less scary the world seems.
i have spent my time thinking i earned a badge of honor and valor.
but it is nothing more than a badge that i too am human.
i have lost, been burnt, been pulled from the wreckage,
learned how to walk again.
i have needed someone to pull me out.
i have needed the stitches.
i have needed to be taught how to eat again.
i have needed to hold the hands of people holding hope for me.
we all have earned the badge.
we all deserve the medal.
so if you are walking through the wreckage right now,
i have no words.
i can only hold you as close as i can.
i can be there while they are stitching you back up.
i will tell you that you will have a scar,
and nothing will be the same.
in time, color will come back to the world,
if only you hold on through this darkness overtaking the valley.
there is no secret to how we all have handled the loss.
i am no different than you.
my scars are older and they are faded now,
and yours will be too one day.
and one day you will see the car flip
and without thinking you will run to the flames.
the braveness is a gift,
given to those who have endured through the weakest moments.
it will embrace you
and cover everyone who needs it in that moment.
the valley doesn’t stay dark forever.
the sun comes back.
through fires and floods,
darkness and sunrise,
hope will carry us through.
love will carry us home.