Yesterday is a Closing Door

  Shattered.

Like you’ve never been before.

The life you knew,

in a thousand pieces on the floor.

And words fall short in times like these,

But this world drives you to your knees.

You think you’re never gonna get back,

To the you that you used to be.

Tell your heart to beat again,

Close your eyes and breathe it in.

Let the shadows fall away.

Step into the light of grace.

Yesterday is a closing door.

You don’t live there anymore.

Say goodbye to where you’ve been,

And tell your heart to beat again.

“Tell Your Heart to Beat Again” –Sung by Danny Gokey

 

I heard this song on one of the three (non-country) radio stations I can get up here in the mountains. As I drove in my work commute haze, the lyrics began to sink into my heart making me more aware of what I was listening to and how much I identified with the song’s meaning.

In my last quickie blog, I mentioned that a writer can be struck with an idea just about anywhere. The pieces of this blog came together from the Sunday church service I guested in Texas, a tree on Baylor University’s campus and listening to the above song.

I didn’t want grief to be a common thread or theme throughout my blog, but unfortunately grief is something I feel well versed in. I’ve experienced it several heart-breaking times, conversed about it with others and read about it cover to cover. If it were a degree, I would have graduated magna cum laude.

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The young pastor at church spoke about the recent loss of his beloved father. Like so many, he and his family watched cancer devour their loved one bit by bit until he was no more. He touched on how even in the thick of grief, he knew he was forever changed. Certain ideals, places and things that were once important, seemed trivial or unimportant now. Ideas tied to his father-son bond were now lost. Sadness aside, his brain calculated, made decisions and pondered life on a different plane.

He gave his opinion on the popular saying “time heals all wounds”, similar to a blog I wrote a few years back called “Scar Tissue”. The tree I saw on campus was marked or scarred by major events in it’s lifetime. They didn’t cause the tree to stop growing or hamper it from becoming the big green being it is today. It overcame the loss and grew in a new direction to be a peaceful beautiful place of shade for students to read under.

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We all heal at different rates and in various ways following life-altering grief. But at some point, I think most of us realize, the most surprising part of grief is losing the person we were when our loved one passed. We send out an internal search and rescue party, desperately hoping to recover a person that cannot be found.

The lyrics “Yesterday is a closing door, you don’t live there anymore”, in Danny Gokey’s song, hit home for me. Knowing my loved one would never return was hard to grasp, but losing a part of me was even harder to process and is an on going journey. In time, I’ve learned who I am without my parents, how to move forward on a new foundation and to rely on memories instead of tears.

If anyone else out there has had to deal with loss, please share how you dealt with meeting the new you.

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5 Comments Add yours

  1. Lois says:

    Cara, When I read your writings, it’s almost like you’re writing about me. I feel everything you’re saying, which makes for an excellent writer. I know what your feelings are and why you have them. Somehow you always make me feel better and look at things differently. Here you wrote on how life will never be the same, which is so true, but also on how we adjust to change, which we must do to grow and move forward. I love your analogies. Thank you!

    1. Thanks Lois! I think when we can relate, we know we aren’t alone in this long journey. Appreciate your kindness and support- It’s a huge motivator for me!

  2. pujjya says:

    soo nice… thank you for sharing

  3. Loss is pain. Loss is an emptiness. Loss is feeling love gone away – the closed door. Many people fill up the pain/emptiness/lack of love with numbing agents (alcohol, drugs, sex). I found searching inside the best way to fill the space, to reopen the door. The strength and wisdom we have inside is beyond understanding. How do we find it? Meditation, yoga, breathing, walking. Mainly, just being. Then the love comes, the door reopens.

    1. Sounds like you too have walked through the fire of grief. happy to hear you went in search of more healthier ways of coping. We are much stronger than we allow ourselves to believe we are.
      Thanks for reading and commenting!!

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