Never Going to be the Same

I think I have come to the conclusion that some things will just never be the same. For years growing up, my mother and I would go see play productions put on at the Tower Theater in the next town over. I only recall a few times actually knowing someone involved, but most of the time, it was just for the entertainment of community theater. Sometimes others would join my mom and I, but many times it was just us and a crowd of strangers soaking up the show and I loved it.

Seeing productions has never been the same and I am not sure why. The majority of the shows I attend these days are because I know someone involved in the play either on stage or behind. I certainly enjoy watching the people I care about doing something they love and cheering them on.

But still, there is a hole. I feel it in museums too. My mother was a museum soaker, and could spend hours reading each placard and oooing and awing over the most abstract pieces. I miss her zeal for life. It’s like some of my zeal died with her.

I know it’s been years and I promise not every day is hard. Just continuously learning how to walk and dance again.

“You will lose someone you can’t live without, and your heart will be badly broken, and the bad news is that you never completely get over the loss of your beloved. But this is also the good news. They live forever in your broken heart that doesn’t seal back up. And you come through. It’s like having a broken leg that never heals perfectly – that still hurts when the weather gets cold, but you learn to dance with the limp.”
–Anne Lamott