It feels impossible to write this letter to you without using some choice words. You are the meanest of mean. You only arrive at the doorstep to my soul when something horrible happens. First my husband, then my grandfather, now my grandmother. You showed up after so many disappointments in my life and brought with you your allies: rage, jealousy, guilt, animosity, anger, resentment, rebellion, selfishness, sadness, depression.
When you come around you completely overshadow hope, faith, dreams, love, life…you just suffocate all of them until there’s nothing left but you and your friends. You know what? I hate you. I hate you for what you stand for. I hate that you take so much of me with you whenever you are present. I hate that you are so powerful that each time I have to face you I break down like a child. I hate that you exist and that I have to deal with you despite every bone in my body wanting to say “NO, I AM NOT SAD”. But yet, you’re still there, eating me alive.
But today? Today someone showed me hope. Today someone told me about refocusing all of you and your friends towards something GOOD. OH yes, you heard me you bastard. Something GOOD. Somehow along this shitty journey I am going to use you, and what you do to people, to actually help them! You didn’t think it was possible did you? Well it is!
Because when you take all those things from someone, you leave them bare, you leave them open to seeing things differently. And with that, it leaves them able to be open to new dreams in life, to fill the voids you have left with hope, faith, dreams, love-all over again.
While you may come back time and time again, each time I will have built myself up a little bit stronger that you can only seep back into my pores just a little bit. And when, at times, you try to take over, you may get me down for a little while, but no matter what, you cannot steal my spirit. You can NEVER steal that. Because it is so much stronger than you and what you brought with you.
My spirit is like the paper to your rock, like scissor to your paper, like the rock to your scissor-you get the point? It always wins. It will always win. You will never win-you will never take or destroy me. You and your friends can try and try again, but I am gonna beat you to a pulp. I know I cannot destroy you, but I can damned well try. And in the meantime I am gonna smile because everytime I do, you die a little bit. So see my Colgate whites-bring it Grief.
Thank you so much for writing this letter. This is what I’ve been trying to say for over 5 years. Only first it was my sister (58), my mom (85), then my husband (who just turned 68) all in 3 years. I have felt EVERYTHING that is in your letter. I hate feeling so vulnerable. Every time I think I’m doing well, I break down and cry like a baby. I have cried more in the last 5 years than I have in a lifetime. Now it’s time to turn the table around and get that fire that is in me re-lit and let my spirit soar to where it’s never been before. You have helped me in my healing. Thank you so much.. God Bless.
Hello Bobbie-Thank you so much for sharing and encouraging ME. I have lost my grandfather, grandmother and husband in the past 2 years, and yes, I feel those pains, those emotions so deeply like you. I want it to ignite me though as you said, not steal my joy. I hope you find that passion!