Kronic Coffee.
"I carry you with me into the world, into the smell of rain & the words that dance between people & for me, it will always be this way, walking in the light, remembering being alive together." - Story People.
Heartache is haunting.
It never sleeps. It does not eat. It requires a host, somewhere to nestle itself, take hold and make 
twisted; dark even. It thrives on the empty. The vacant space where something full and beautiful once lived. It does not have to try hard for its presence to be felt. It slowly works its way around the heart, making it bitter, and jaded about that beautiful, wonderful thing that you once held so close. It is easy to succumb to the heartache. Easy to let it wall up your heart, impenetrable to the life that surrounds it.
Blind we become when we are the haunted.
So how do you banish it, especially once its comfortable? Stubbornness tells it to stay, to lean into it and some day, a long ways from now it will evaporate. And
as if awakening from a dream, everything will return as it was. And all will be right again.
Stubbornness knows nothing of heartache. how could it? It spends too much time deflecting every emotion to see that waiting it out, weathering the storm is the last possible way to deal.
No, I think the best way to banish it is to acknowledge it. Bring to the surface the very thing that has become your ball and chain.
Cry about it.
Let it out.
Scream.
Laugh.
Hug someone.
Throw something if necessary.
And once you have done that...a few dozen times. Do it again. It is better to be exhausted from letting it go then from keeping it in. The ball and
chain should not be the reminder of loss. It should not be there at all.
Dad was never jaded, never bitter or cross at what the world dealt
him. Life for him was this terribly exciting adventure. It was an occasion. Something to dress for in the morning. So rather than sitting waiting for the stubborn hurricane of a storm to pass over, we drove around in it. We jumped in it. And rather than running from the ocean and the waves, we embraced them...we surfed them. For him. Nearly 80 of us paddling into the sunset, honoring the man who changed lives because of how he lived his. We are proud of him, proud to surf with him in the water, to remember him fondly because of how he loved.
And that was a far more freeing experience than I think any of us could have imagined.
Heartache may always be around, but it does not have to become the only existence. To be stronger than what life has thrown at you is potentially one of the most difficult undertakings known to humanity. To learn to live again, despite his absence is the hardest thing to date, I have ever done. I would rather attempt to live
the way he wanted me to then to allow something as potent as loss take hold and never let go. And never recover. There are too many people who won't let that happen anyway. And for them I do not have words for the gratitude. Thank you never seems to cut it.
twisted; dark even. It thrives on the empty. The vacant space where something full and beautiful once lived. It does not have to try hard for its presence to be felt. It slowly works its way around the heart, making it bitter, and jaded about that beautiful, wonderful thing that you once held so close. It is easy to succumb to the heartache. Easy to let it wall up your heart, impenetrable to the life that surrounds it.
Blind we become when we are the haunted.
So how do you banish it, especially once its comfortable? Stubbornness tells it to stay, to lean into it and some day, a long ways from now it will evaporate. And
as if awakening from a dream, everything will return as it was. And all will be right again.
Stubbornness knows nothing of heartache. how could it? It spends too much time deflecting every emotion to see that waiting it out, weathering the storm is the last possible way to deal.
No, I think the best way to banish it is to acknowledge it. Bring to the surface the very thing that has become your ball and chain.
Cry about it.
Let it out.
Scream.
Laugh.
Hug someone.
Throw something if necessary.
And once you have done that...a few dozen times. Do it again. It is better to be exhausted from letting it go then from keeping it in. The ball and
chain should not be the reminder of loss. It should not be there at all.
Dad was never jaded, never bitter or cross at what the world dealt
him. Life for him was this terribly exciting adventure. It was an occasion. Something to dress for in the morning. So rather than sitting waiting for the stubborn hurricane of a storm to pass over, we drove around in it. We jumped in it. And rather than running from the ocean and the waves, we embraced them...we surfed them. For him. Nearly 80 of us paddling into the sunset, honoring the man who changed lives because of how he lived his. We are proud of him, proud to surf with him in the water, to remember him fondly because of how he loved.
And that was a far more freeing experience than I think any of us could have imagined.
Heartache may always be around, but it does not have to become the only existence. To be stronger than what life has thrown at you is potentially one of the most difficult undertakings known to humanity. To learn to live again, despite his absence is the hardest thing to date, I have ever done. I would rather attempt to live
the way he wanted me to then to allow something as potent as loss take hold and never let go. And never recover. There are too many people who won't let that happen anyway. And for them I do not have words for the gratitude. Thank you never seems to cut it.
