We can be deeply joyful and filled to overflowing with profound sorrow – both at the same time. We need not be only one or the other.
Even in the darkest places to which I have traveled, there is light, and I am grateful. If it were not so, how would I find my way back? And as I have returned those many times, the light has grown brighter, eventually balancing – not cancelling – balancing the dark with the strength of the ages, a strength shared with me each and every time.
I have written many times of the agonies experienced by my family but I have also hinted at the resilience, at the hope, at the relentless determination to live one more day, to find joy in that day, and if not immediate joy, the hope of joy to come.
And so I dance in the woods. I delight at the giggles of toddlers. I drink deeply of the wide open sky and the rivers that run. I live even as I weep, even as I return from the dark. I sing and I love as I seek the new day, welcoming its return.
But as it comes, I know that it will not entirely displace the sorrow, and that is good because I need to remember. I need to learn from where I have been. In my new day, joy and sorrow will live side by side, making me twice as rich as I was before.