A Look Back

Tomorrow, Saturday December 1st, is my 33rd birthday.
I am going to spend the day reflecting on what those 33 years have taught me. Maybe you can learn something from my foolishness. But I doubt it. One of the primary lessons that I've discovered over time is that there are small moments here and there, sprinkled sparingly as true love, that make me ache.
There are aches that make me hurt forever, like when my Dad put his heavy arm around my shoulder when I was 14, as we walked up to the casket at my Grandpa's funeral. It was the first time I'd been to a funeral of someone I really loved and for the entire day I couldn't sort out my emotions enough to grieve. I stayed to myself in a small parlor of the funeral home. I couldn't cry. I got angry with myself for my callousness. But late in the day, as my stomach twisted to knotted tears, my Dad came up to me and said, "Let's go say goodbye to your Grandpa." We started down the aisle, my Grandpa resting peacefully before us. As soon as my Dad's arm wrapped my shoulder, I began to cry. He squeezed a little, partially for me and partially for him. As we knelt before my Grandpa, I looked over at my Dad with his eyes shut in grief for his father-in-law and I realized that I am part of something. I am part of a world where people are not immortal. I am part of the joy and sorrow of all those around me. I am part of a family that loves each other, especially when the weight seems too heavy to bear alone.
Sometimes there are aches that drive deep into my core, like the hurt of discovering the person I love will never truly love me. The moment of realization pulled the breath out of my lungs, making me lightheaded and nauseous. It felt like the air would never return to completely fill me up again. I was deflated and hollow. When I was younger, I felt this ache. I remember looking at him, wondering why he didn't see what I felt. Wondering why he didn't care. Wondering how it was possible for me to feel such intensity and yet he could feel none. But the ache passed. Love comes to each of us again, and it is that which fills us up. I learned to look for it; look for the intensity in others that I'd hoped others would see in me.
I have felt the ache of love. It's a love that makes you want to shake strangers. The ache radiates within you. The ache that makes you want to hold your lover tighter. This ache is always with you.
So, after 33 years, I've learned to embrace the ache. Sometimes it's simple. Sometimes, it's difficult to see the road back from pain or love or anger or despair. The only thing of which I am certain is that when I do find my way back, I'm so much happier than when I left.