We don't want to face the worst, but we do it anyway.

Today it is April 13, and it is Saturday. I returned a few books to the library. I feel a bit like a jerk because Code Name Verity was very overdue, but I couldn't bring myself to take it back to the library until I had read it through. I am glad I did. My boyfriend and I went to the gym this morning, and then got groceries. Then I sunk myself into the couch for awhile, but thought better of it. I forced myself to get up and do something.

Lately I have been afraid. All the usual stereotypical fears. I am afraid to leave my job, and afraid of what will happen to my confidence if I don't. I am afraid to put myself out there and open myself up to criticism, but again if I don't, then I am afraid of what I will think of myself. I am afraid to fail, and am also afraid to succeed. These are just the vague fears that plague us all. 

I am sure some of my anxiety stems from post traumatic stress. Grief. The fear of bad things happening to the people I love, and also from losing those I love. 

I suppose what it all comes down to is fear of the unknown. Essentially that is what fear is, isn't it? I have already survived the heartache of loss, so why do I fear it again? I fear being unsure of how I will act in a given situation, whether I will come across the way I intend. I am afraid of others misinterpreting me. I fear how other people will behave in situations, but what difference does it make? 

"Do I dare

Disturb the universe?

In a minute there is time

For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse."

-From "The Love song of J Alfred Prufrock" by T.S. Eliot

Sometimes I wonder if I am also not just afraid of what I or others may be incapable of surviving, but also afraid of the endurance of the human heart. How can it be that people can undergo so much suffering, and still survive? Live even? Sometimes it makes me sad that with so much suffering and hardship, people can still be cruel. Why do we bother to be cruel if it is not necessary? Lately I have had a harder time shrugging off negative people, rude people, people who just seem oblivious to how their negative energy impacts those around them. I understand maybe it's not healthy for everyone to internalize their frustrations like I do, and I certainly am not always able to do so, but at least I try to be conscious of who is on the receiving end of my wrath. Yet there are also so many people who survive atrocious experiences and manage to maintain a compassionate nature.

I just got interrupted from my writing. "Ring of Fire" by Johnny Cash just came on the radio as I am sitting here at Starbucks. 

To explain why this struck me, I will explain that my dad was a big fan of Johnny Cash. He also had a very deep voice like him. When my dad met Gloria, his fiance, it kind of became a song that they shared because at a family Halloween party one year, Gloria was dancing around the fire and actually tripped and fell in. Luckily, even though she got burned, she was not permanently damaged by the incident. 

Over the last year as Holly, Dad, Gloria and I all became a family, when we visited we would ALWAYS listen to his song at least once (usually many more times). We would all dance and sing along. 

We played Johnny Cash at dad's funeral. 

So last weekend, my boyfriend and I drove down to Wisconsin to visit Gloria and dad's friends. We made it down Thursday night and it was a nice night with just a few of us hanging out at the local bar. The next morning, Gloria went to work. I woke up and took a shower. I just felt so sad. It felt so weird to be there without dad, now that the shock has worn off a bit. Gloria's house felt so quiet. Most of dad's stuff was boxed up so that Gloria could start functioning again (and I am so glad that she was blessed with sisters too so she didn't have to do that alone). 

Anyways, I just kept waiting to hear my dad's voice ask us whether we were going to breakfast. Tell us we were burning daylight. Instead it was just quiet. So I got out of the shower, feeling a bit hollow on the inside, and very sad. And all of a sudden I hear a woman's voice on the t.v. in their bedroom start singing "Ring of Fire." I don't know the name of the artist, but it is a newer version of the song. I went in and sat on the bed and listened, and maybe it was a coincidence that the song came on, but I felt considerably more peaceful hearing it. 

So now, to hear it again at a time when I am struggling a bit internally, it is soothing. 

Our bodies are magical things. When we think we have reached the end of our strength, somewhere there are hidden reserves. When we think we cannot take another step, somehow our bodies do not fail us even when our will is faint. The weekend my dad was dying, we barely slept. I remember sitting next to my sister, both of us in uncomfortable, hard chairs. Both of us with our heads on the bed, holding dad's hand, and half holding each other. Waiting. Somehow we were able to go through it. 

You don't want to watch a part of you die, but you do it anyway. The human heart is roughly the size of a human fist, but it is also infinite. 

When great tragedies happen, there are moments where you wonder how you will ever appreciate life again. There have been moments in the last few weeks where I have felt very lonely, and infinitely sad, and dreadfully pessimistic. At the same time, I do appreciate that the heaviness of my grief is due to the loss being great. We cannot live and love to our highest potential without facing our fears and giving ourselves the opportunity to do so. I had lovely, wonderful, loving parents, an adoring grandmother, and I would not miss them nearly so much if they had not been so extraordinary.