There is beauty in darkness.  There is purpose in pain.  Blessed are moments of suffering, for they create opportunity for compassion, forgiveness and growth.  How easily we forget that one cannot exist in the absence of the other. 

I have been reading some of my old journals these past few days, reflecting on darker moments when depression was my closest friend.  There is much truth in sadness, and there is rebirth in its passing.  A flicker of light shines brightest in a black room. 

 12/6/05  “There is a place where innocence goes when it dies, like a gathering of butterflies startled into flight.  A collection of light swirling in a tornado of time and space, as if the sky opened up and called “I love you. Come home” and they did.  It is a dance so beautiful that one must turn their gaze or burn lazer thin slices in exposed retinas.  Staring at the collective innocence is like peaking at a solar eclipse. You can only see something so sacred through a special lens or reflected in painted glass… as if it were not intended for us to see at all.  Some things were not meant to be seen, like a dream that wakes you from sleep. ”

I miss my old friend.  There was something naked and raw and undeniably real about meeting death with locked eyes and cold hands.  Today I sat with her in my grief, rocking and remembering, and she washed my heart in my own tears.  Just before I fell into the warm embrace of sweet slumber, she whispered “I love you. Go home.”  And I did.

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