Not going to lie, you truly know how to test someone’s will. As I write this letter, I can’t help but glance over at Jace and notice the acute pain he’s experiencing. A daughter, the man has a daughter but had to give her up. How is that fair? It’s not, that’s obvious from the way he could barely talk about it.
How is it fair that I’m a widow?
That’s not fair either, but there you are, giving us these amazing gifts like the unconditional love of a man, or the sweet, contagious love of a daughter, and without warning, you rip them away from us?
Your actions make me cry. Your plans tear me apart. Your involvement in my sanity is eating me alive.
But, then you do something like today. You bring four strangers together who know nothing about each other and expose their brokenness, their common heartbreaks, and give them something to breathe for.
The mutual need for companionship, for understanding.
I know what it’s like to lose someone. I know the emptiness that slowly erodes your heart. I can help him heal, which in return, will help me. If this is the first step of letting go, then I’m proud to say that I’m ready to take that first step.
How do you know if people like you? If they are being nice to be nice, or if they genuinely want to be nice to you? I’m not quite sure how to read Jace, Hollyn, and especially Carter.
He scares me, but then again, he’s so much like me. Wanting to be free, wanting to break out of the confines, the imprisonment he’s been living in. I know the feeling. But where he seems to have someone holding him back, I have fear keeping me in place.
Fear, probably my biggest enemy. I’m scared for so many reasons, but one of my biggest fears is never knowing what it’s like to experience life, to live on the edge, and to laugh with true friends.
Do you think they like me? Or do you think they pity me?
I have no clue how to approach them and I don’t want to look desperate. Gosh, why is this so hard?
I’m ready to let go of the old Daisy, but there is that little hint of fear dragging me backward with every positive thought. How do I push that fear away? Just dive in head first, sidestepping past the worry? Am I brave enough to do that?
I sure hope so.
Letting go. Huh, easier said than done when it still sits so fresh in your mind. There isn’t a minute that goes by that I don’t think about Hope, that I don’t picture her face, or smell her sweet, fresh baby scent. So how am I supposed to let that go when I’m still grieving? How could I ever stop grieving the loss of my flesh and blood?
Fuck, the pain is too overwhelming to even think about anything else.
Born in New York and raised in Southern California, Meghan has grown into a sassy, peanut butter eating, blonde haired swearing, animal hoarding lady. She is known to bust out and dance if “It’s Raining Men” starts beating through the air and heaven forbid you get a margarita in her, protect your legs because they may be humped.