“Only in the darkness can you see the stars.” ― Martin Luther King Jr.
The death of someone you love with every fiber of your being blocks out the sun and brings the darkness. It’s how I describe it. A loving family, kind neighbors, and faith-filled words of believers didn’t bring any light to my darkness. I don’t know where the strength to plod ahead came from, but I plodded ahead. I stumbled and fell. I refused to give up. I felt as if I were walking in quick mud, sunk down to my knees. I could almost hear the sucking sound of the mud as I pulled my leg out of the mud and took my next step. Then it happened.
A glimpse of light. I smiled at something, a bird or butterfly. I smiled and I knew I smiled. I look up to the Texas sky and said, “Thank you.”
The mud was still there, only I was a bit stronger. I didn’t struggle quite as much pulling my leg up. And, then it happened.
Another glimpse of light. Someone listened to me tell my story again. They didn’t preach to me, they listened. And, I grew stronger. The light grew brighter. I plodded along; the quick mud only up to my ankles.
And, one day I decided to sit down write about all the things I was grateful for that my Babe gave to me. Oh, I cried and cried as I wrote. I wrote through my tears. When I finished writing, I smiled, turned toward a photo of my Babe and said thank you. And, the light shone around me and has not gone out.
Don’t give up. Plod on. Plod on. Plod on.