Fall and I have a love-hate relationship. What was once my favorite season became one scarred with loss and an aching I thought would never leave. A few years after losing my mom, autumn emerged and I began to enjoy the parts that once hurt.
And then I lost my dad.
Sometimes three losses in four years feels an impossible load to carry. My back hurts. My shoulders. My heart. Some days I feel immense gratitude, joy even. Light on my feet. Thankful for small wonders. The next day, the load weighs me down, in a deep and impossible-to-catch-my-breath sort of way.
I’m starting to remember and to honor both sorts of days. To acknowledge their place in my story. To stop apologizing. To just be in them, knowing the tunnel is just that. Light on the other end. Worth the walking.
I’m taking some new steps this week, to walk with more intent, towards what I know I need. And that’s the important thing I think. That we do the thing we must, even when we feel we can’t. We must fight. I must fight. So I am. Grace upon grace. Upon grace. Upon grace.