Rising from the ashes: Finding acceptance
Loss comes in different colors. It may be that something tangible we possess is taken from us. It could be something or someone we always imagined as a part of our lives leaving. It could be relationships that sour over time. But the hardest part is finding acceptance. Not just of what happened, but all the voids created in our present and perceived future as a result of this event. When my Dad had a stroke, I looked at it as a transient event. That he would get better in a few months, maybe a year. After that, things would go back to how they were. Over time, gradually, I realized that this was not going to happen. He got worse, and all the negative traits he had became magnified. I saw depression take hold of him with a vengeance, and his anxiety ratcheted to the highest I'd ever seen it. He lives every day in agony, screaming continuously for the most part. Every other week, a physical ailment crops up, adding to all our burdens. Sometimes I look at him in disbelief. I can no l