Broken Light

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 This past Sunday was 15 years since my son passed away.  I thought a lot about Aidan all week.  Fifteen is such a big number, so many years. This anniversary felt hard, lonely – the whole world moved on without him but there’s a part of me still stuck there, 15 years ago holding on to him, wishing for one more miracle.  For me it hurts like it happened yesterday but 15 year later, raw and broken. I feel like I should be more okay than I felt most of this week after living through the past 15 years.  It starts to feel like no matter how much time passes the raw unexplainable brokenness will never stop.  It’s dark and lonely, but I have learned over the years to find places to also love the darkness.  

 

 I love running in the dark mornings.  Eventually as I get into the run, for just a moment I feel like the whole world belongs to me and absolutely anything is possible.  There is a silence, a stillness that fills my soul with peace. The cold bites my face and reminds me no matter how broken I may feel I am still so alive and moving one step at a time through this life.  Maybe that’s what I love about early morning runs, I can stay relatively hidden from the world and the broken parts that just don’t heal no matter how many years go by or how hard I try to let go stay hidden from the world. I can be a little more okay and by the time I’ve covered a few miles and the sun rises above the horizon, I realize, I have another chance to dream and try again.  Maybe it matters because, just maybe, In our own ways, we are all a little broken and trying really hard to not be broken? 

 

I love how the first couple miles try to get me to sell myself short and think of all the ways I can shorten my run and then after those first couple miles, I find myself wondering what if I just go down this road or that one, I wonder how far I can go and where it will take me.  Maybe life is kind of like that too -  this broken feeling that won’t stop choking me, maybe it’s trying to get me to quit but if I can just get a little further up the road, I can start wondering and dreaming and getting excited again about where this road or that one might take me and how far I can go.  And maybe, as a friend of mine said to today, I will learn to” try less hard” to let go of the broken pieces and just let them be what they are – a part, a piece of who I am but not the totality of who I am.  That feels hard but isn’t there always light even in the darkness of winter? It is kind of like how the sunrise peaks through the breaks in the clouds on grey winter mornings to remind us that the light is still there.  Maybe it’s ok to be broken, maybe I can try less hard to hide it because isn’t it the cracks that the light shines through?

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