How to Walk Away

by Katherine Center

The worst thing about sleeping, after something terrible happens, is that sleeping makes you forget. Which is fine, until you wake up.

You can’t ask someone to love you or be there for you or do the right thing—and you certainly can’t guilt them into it. Either they will or they won’t.

Exhaustion is a friend to the grieving.

felt full-out panicked and quietly numb simultaneously.

I was trying. Every morning that I woke up and remembered the wreckage of my life, I was trying. Every breath I took, I was trying. Every second of being conscious all day long, I was trying.

I would never, ever claim that everything happens for a reason. Like all tragedies, it was senseless. But I knew one thing for sure: The greater our capacity for sorrow becomes, the greater our capacity for joy.

She’s trying. And trying always counts for a lot.

But you have to live the life you have. You have to find inspiration in the struggle, and pull joy out of the hardship. That’s what we try to do—counterbalance the suffering with laughter, fuzzy blankets, hugs, sing-alongs, sunny-day picnics, chocolate chip cookies, and wildflowers. Because that’s all we can do: carry the sorrow when we have to, and absolutely savor the joy when we can. Life is always, always both.

You can’t fix everything. Not even close. But you can look for reasons to be grateful. More than that, you can work to create them.

More than anything, I know that you just have to choose to make the best of things. You get one life, and it only goes forward. And there really are all kinds of happy endings.