“It’s funny: I always imagined when I was a kid that adults had some kind of inner toolbox full of shiny tools: the saw of discernment, the hammer of wisdom, the sandpaper of patience. But then when I grew up I found that life handed you these rusty bent old tools – friendships, prayer, conscience, honesty – and said ‘do the best you can with these, they will have to do’. And mostly, against all odds, they do.” ―Anne Lamott
We can only do our best with what we have. The last few months have been about healing. It’s been a time for remembering, cherishing, embracing and building up. It’s also been about learning that there’s nothing we can do when the people we love are grieving. The best thing is to simply be present. To stand quietly by their side, let the tears fall, and allow them the space and time to pick up the pieces. I don’t know what it means when people say you move on. I think with time, you move forward. One foot in front of the other. You treasure the memories, the stories and the smiles, and figure out a way to live around the pain and the loss. One day, you might learn how to live with it.
The Hubs and I are slowly putting things back on track. A few weeks ago, we headed off to Bali for an impromptu long weekend. We stayed at The Mulia, a gorgeous luxury resort located at Nusa Dua. We slept like babies in the massive king-sized bed, soaked in the golden rays of a sunrise, took long walks on the beach, sighed in happy contentment at the sight of beautiful turquoise waters, napped to the sound of waves lapping gently onto the shore and ate lots of dessert. It was a weekend dedicated to indulgence and rest.
The decision to take a break wasn’t an easy one. It was tinged with guilt . It felt selfish and awkward. But I was running on empty from work and everything else, and needed to run away and hide. I desperately craved a bubble of solitude to recharge. Thankfully, The Hubs understood. No judgement, no questions asked.
For the first time in weeks, I breathed. I didn’t think about the next thing that had to be done. I didn’t worry about schedules or errands that needed to be run. I didn’t hold my breath, waiting for the next wave to hit. I breathed in the moment. And just like that, my toolbox is full again.
“Rest is not idleness, and to lie sometimes on the grass under the trees on a summer’s day, listening to the murmur of water, or watching the clouds float across the sky, is by no means a waste of time”