When We Let Go

by Rochelle B. Weinstein

I was a collection of contradictions and subtleties,

I know how devastating trauma can be, how the mind and the body find ways to comfort that aren’t prudent.

And I wonder why the ones who need love the most are so difficult to give it to.

now I’m here, and I’m feeling every emotion I hoped to forget.

Everywhere I look, there’s a past I’d callously abandoned, and I feel a pang of what that had to feel like for the people I left behind.

she thrives on discussing feelings and the whys of any given situation.

And the look of disappointment that passes across his face rattles me, so I agree to think about it, because there are things you say and promise to those you love, even when you know you can’t see them through.

One day at a time means no end in sight, only another tomorrow. There are no catchy phrases to make suffering go away.

Sometimes the things people don’t say hurt worse than the things they do. It’s just the way of grief and loss. People think they’re doing you a favor by avoiding the tougher subjects, but the silence only makes the absence bigger, deafening.

Time, I’ve learned, is a malleable concept. Time passes. Time flies. Time heals. Memories lie dormant and grab you when you least expect it.

“Being strong . . . it doesn’t always mean being tough. It means letting those terrible feelings in, not pushing them away. It’s letting yourself feel all of it.”

“See how quickly things change, Avery? You need to grab sunshine when you can. The real tragedy is living the rest of your life in the dark.”

I made decisions to protect myself, to protect others, and I caused hurt and had been hurt. Does it matter how well intentioned one is when there is shrapnel everywhere?

“Mistakes don’t make you a bad person, Avery. They make you complex and human. Own them. Or the only person you hurt is you.”

And I begin to understand more and more what it means to be a parent. It’s hoping for the best while advising and consoling, knowing there are never guarantees. It’s saying the same thing over and over again until it sticks. Never getting tired. Never giving up. And it’s never walking away.

He’s done good. He’s done bad. Isn’t he just being human like the rest of us?”

I’m living the best I can with what I was given. And so should you.”

Missing someone you’ve loved and lost doesn’t come with a roadmap. There’s no knowing when the ache will creep in, knocking you flat.

holding on to those you’ve lost means you’re living in the past. And if you’re living in the past, you’re not really living.

I know now that it’s okay to paint outside the lines, to be vulnerable, make mistakes.

And I think of all the storms we weathered to land in this place. The broken dreams. The prayers we cast off into the sky. And I know now that endings bring forth new beginnings, and letting go means you’re alive.