In an Instant

by Suzanne Redfearn

She’s the only one who says it, but she says it often enough and with such sincerity that sometimes I actually believe her.

“People die. And I get that I’m still here and that life goes on, and that eventually the hole will get smaller. At least that’s what everyone keeps saying.”

Because it’s not that I don’t get what they’re saying. I do. But right now, the hole, it’s really, really big, and it’s really, really lonely, and I really, really miss her.”

there are moments, inevitable lapses and gaps in time, when the past floods into the present with such fury it sucks the wind from your lungs and knocks you off your feet.

“A single step at a time,” the man says, speaking from some profound experience of his own and with deep understanding, making me wonder if all pain might be the same regardless of its origin. “You’re still here,” he goes on. “So there’s not really a choice. An inch, a foot, not necessarily in the right direction, but onward nonetheless.”

I realize why God created women. A man without a woman is a disoriented and pathetic creature.

I’ve always believed regret is the most difficult emotion to live with, but in order to have regret, you need to have a conscience: an interesting paradox that allows the worst of us to suffer the least in the aftermath of wrongdoing.