When We Let Go

by Rochelle B. Weinstein

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.”

“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.”

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.

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.