The Age of Innocence

I am part of the age of innocence without being able to embrace it. I don’t feel I’m blind to anything in my life now, but alternately, acutely aware of how raw life is in all its sins and shame and devastation.

It is a raw world. When life happens, it’s not always the beautiful couples, the fresh carnations at my table, the chilled drinks and pleasant conversations surrounding you. Instead, it is that intermingled with anger, grief, cynics, bitterness, worry, uncertainty, resentment, disappointment, loss. We have an expectation that we can have a dream, chase it, and achieve it in some way. Little do we consider the setbacks that occur on the way to the dream.

As I said earlier today, I longed for Kevin long before he entered my life. I ached for the passion, love, sensuality, zest, vigor, and hope that that kind of love brought into my life. Little did I think that that love passing would rip my dream apart and have my life embrace the brutality that often comes with such a passion of life.

I look out the window at this lovely cafe in this renaissance city, amongst the green county, in this free state, of this amazing country, on a blessed world, and see 20-somethings with no worry, but rather, looks of dream and love and hope upon their faces. I once had that, that beautiful naivety of being young and innocent amongst the beauty of the world.

20-somethings shouldn’t have to see the ugly side of this crime ridden city, amongst the stubborn county, in this torn state, of this worrisome country, in a broken world.

The age of innocence is hidden to me, and that is exactly what has ushered in this pathetic self pity and cynicism. The ugly side. The side that just waits for it all to fall apart instead of embracing the hope that could come with a future without Kevin.

I imagine that in grief I can be healed, with only a little piece still broken. I imagine that I can move on, open my heart to love, give my soul to those who need the blessings I have received from this tragedy. I imagine all this and hope that it comes soon.

But for now I must feel all of the self pity, bitterness, cynicism, anger, resentment, disappointment, heart ache, lust, destruction, worry, and uncertainty that is my current life. I must feel it to get through it. I have watched others go through similar journeys who have never dealt with these emotions, but rather pushed it to the bottom and built new lives on top of it. ..Only to have everything on top of it rot with the remnants of a former broken life.

Life should be beautiful, but yet it is not. While we all face tragedies, I don’t want my life to be a tragedy from a tragedy. Yes, there is sympathy and empathy in my situation, but I am still alive.

I am still alive.

I am still alive.

My heart still beats, my lungs are clear, my mind is sound, my soul has learned, my eyes have seen, and my heart is broken, my lungs sigh often, my mind is cloudy, my soul aches, and my eyes tear.

I am still alive in this grief. Amongst the grief I am a beacon of light, sometimes dimmed, sometimes clear, but always visible. For those who ache, for others who feel loss, for those battling disease, for those with hope, who want to beleive there can be a happy ending in the sorrow.

I think there can be a happy ending in the sorrow. I don’t know what it is, but I feel the love, I have the hope, I seek for the strength.

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