6 Months Later
Not my typical post. But this is my blog, so I decide what "typical" is.
It has been 6 months since my sister died. 6 months since I sat in the early morning hours trying to make sense of what had just happened. And here I sit, again in the early morning hours, drinking way too much coffee, still turning the pieces around in my mind, looking for a way to make it all fit together. And it just doesn't fit. And it never will.
So I ran this morning. Like I did that morning. Except today I ran strong, not in crying fits and starts. Because sometimes that's all you can do. You keep putting one foot in front of the other. Despite the hurt. Because of the hurt. And it feels better. And it doesn't feel better. But you keep moving forward anyway because she can't. Peace comes and then it goes. So I run again.
It occurred to me this morning, on this morning 6 months to the day that I took that first run without her, that I will never stop running.
It has been 6 months since my sister died. 6 months since I sat in the early morning hours trying to make sense of what had just happened. And here I sit, again in the early morning hours, drinking way too much coffee, still turning the pieces around in my mind, looking for a way to make it all fit together. And it just doesn't fit. And it never will.
So I ran this morning. Like I did that morning. Except today I ran strong, not in crying fits and starts. Because sometimes that's all you can do. You keep putting one foot in front of the other. Despite the hurt. Because of the hurt. And it feels better. And it doesn't feel better. But you keep moving forward anyway because she can't. Peace comes and then it goes. So I run again.
It occurred to me this morning, on this morning 6 months to the day that I took that first run without her, that I will never stop running.
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