#selfcarediaries2017 Day 90/March 29: Interestingly enough, the first time I visited #Austin was via #Amtrak. I haven't thought about that moment in years, but I walked past the railroad track yesterday evening right as this train was pulling into the station. The deafening rattle brought with it a wave of intense nostalgia, as well as some vague emotion sharper than just fondness for days gone by.
The #HarryPotter series is one of my favorite stories of all time, and trains play a prominent role in moving both characters and plot line along. After Harry's first in-person experience with death, he notices some ghostly winged horses around him when he steps off the train platform at Hogwarts. A little bit unnerved, he asks Luna Lovegood about them, who nonchalantly explains that they are only visible to people who have seen death.
I wonder if there's a Thestral equivalent in the real world for people who have experienced grief or loss. To be honest, there have been so many tears in recent months - angry ones, healing ones, heartbreak ones. A lot in private, some I unfortunately can't hold back in public. No particular reason, really... I just feel like there's this massive boulder of grief for something I can't quite define, and the only way to get rid of it is to dissolve it with salt water... ha. Sometimes I try to substitute sweat, only to find the tears catch me on the drive back from the gym anyway. I'm sure it makes me healthier, but I hate it all so much. 😂
This whole process has made me see so much of the pain people carry in secret. A few weeks ago, a total stranger told me that the one-year anniversary of his son's birth - and death - was that upcoming Tuesday. We teared up together as he talked about watching Callen suffocate before his eyes, and of trying to stay strong so his wife would feel safe grieving in front of him.
I feel like I should have a profound conclusion here, but hell, I'm keeping it real.
Grief sucks. Pain sucks. Can I give back this "superpower"? I want to start over.