Sometimes

Derwent Water Jetty

Derwent Water

Sometimes
We just need to stand
And look out over the water
To find peace and tranquility.

Sometimes
We just need to wait
And peace and tranquility
Will come to us

Sometimes
Finding peace and tranquility
Is hard work
And we are afraid to search for them

Sometimes
We just need to stop
And take a few deep breaths
And peace and tranquility will find us

There is always tomorrow

Cork Sunset

Grief can make us feel like there is no hope, nothing to which to look forward.

We read stories of long-married couples who pass away within days of each other. Once one dies, the other feels there is little reason to live. Half of his or her life is snatched away and there is nothing but a feeling of not feeling anything.

Time, however, is a great healer. Rightly, we are encouraged to live one day at a time. Each day has enough worries without borrowing any from yesterday, or from tomorrow. Yet, tomorrow really is another day. Tomorrow provides an opportunity to start again. It is, quite literally, a new dawn, and a new day.

It’s a bit like breaking a leg. We hobble around for six weeks, with an unwieldy cast for company. Then comes the day when we say, “Tomorrow, I get my cast off, and I’ll be free.” There may still be residual pain, albeit not as bad as when we broke the leg. But we move on.

As we deal with our grief, as we deal with our anxieties, as we deal with the stresses and strains of everyday life, there is no harm in thinking about tomorrow, and the bright future that tomorrow can bring.

After all, we may be grieving, but our loved one would want us to be happy. And, although the pain will be there for a long time, we can remove the cast of grief and feel the freedom to move on.

Vulnerability

Lonely Tree, Brecon Beacons

We stand tall, erect and proud. We can cope. We are capable. We are in control. We don’t need help, thank you.

At least, that’s the image we try to portray. That’s the image we are taught to portray, especially in the Western world. The stiff upper lip that refuses to cry, publicly; or even privately, for that matter. After all, we are in control. What is there to cry about? We don’t need help, thank you.

Pain sneaks up on us, unexpectedly. Pain hides in the shadows of our existence, lurking, waiting for the right opportunity to rear its ugly head; waiting until the perfect moment to cause us embarrassment.

The truth is that we have to acknowledge our pain. We have to confront it. We have to savour the challenge of accepting, and beating our pain into submission. And we can only do that by admitting that it is there, that we are in pain, that we are suffering; that we need help.

For only then can we be truly free. Only then can we stand tall, erect, and proud; not because we are pain-free; not because we have conquered pain; but because we are not afraid to show our vulnerabilities.