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The death of my child was the death of my own heart. That night in the hospital was pure agony.
“There are things you need to do, Mommy. Questions you need to ask. You can’t be done yet. You need to forgive someone.” Who doesn’t, I ask you? Perhaps you should think about that, while you’re healthy enough to do something about it. Take my advice. Don’t wait until you’re dead.
“You always wanted to save the world,” Peter said. “But not everybody wants to be saved.”
Life is hard. It’s cruel sometimes. It’s merciless and unfair, but we all go through difficult times, one way or another. You’ve had more than your share of knocks lately, I’ll give you that, but it doesn’t mean you get to quit. No one gets to quit. You keep fighting, every day, and sooner or later, the grief fades a little. You grow stronger, find joy again, and everything gets easier. You come out of it more equipped to handle the next wave, which will come eventually. There will always be waves.”
But that’s life, isn’t it? For all we know, each day could be our last. What matters most is the appreciation and gratefulness we should feel
for each precious day we have with one another.
Love is our greatest achievement. Don’t ever forget that. Don’t squander it. Seek it.
Experience it. Savor it every day that you can, because you never know when a rogue wave might sweep you away.
Time does heal wounds. Eventually. The scars might remain, but life goes on.
I realized that the passing of time meant very little in relation to the soul.
The good and the bad—it would all come in waves.
It was indeed possible to start again, to find joy, even after it seemed lost forever.
