There's a young woman I know who is facing a life change. Walking into a life that she had not expected. At least that she had never spoken about. A life without the man whom she married.
How I want to reach across and tell her it will be alright, how the pain will subside, how she will surprise herself as the days go on. How she will discover parts of herself that she didn't know existed, and parts of herself that will reemerge because they have disappeared. How I'd like to hold her in my arms and let her sob it out, scream it out, yell about the unfairness of it all. Let her shout for all her sisters throughout time who have been hurt and had their perfectly planned futures yanked out from their grasp.
But I cannot.
She must do this all on her own. She must reach deep and pull at the sad memories, and laugh again at the good times and then look at the wee faces snuggled on the sofa beside her. Someday, she will know that they are her gift for all that she has been through. And that will be enough.
Today, the doorway is only passage for one, Her. She has to do this by herself. Go through, I beckon. You can do it. You will do it. You have the key. Do it for yourself, do it for your children. Do it because it is the doorway to something better.
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