After the Storm
There were times I didn’t know how, or if, I would endure the ongoing consequences of my husband’s suicide. Or how I would survive the loss of homes I thought I owned. Or how I would rise, once more, and continue. Just continue. Some times, my next day or even moment felt unattainable, like air when you’re caught in the under tow of a wave.
These onslaughts of what seemed like timeless duration felt like storms to withstand. My power, I thought, could be found in the way I braved the pounding truth of these storms.
An otherworldly spiritual calm finds me when thunder melts into rain. I no longer wonder if the storm will come. I KNOW the storm will come. Within the squall, my edges are nonlinear and yet precisely: me and not me, discovering the courage to breath in the midst of seemingly drowning.
As the winds tear at my layers, I sense the part of me that persists—a part untouchable by the storm. My great victory is in choosing to love and keep loving. Choosing to live this moment and continuing to choose to live in each future moment. To cling to hope and faith and make the space for them to flourish. To get closer to the strength of what cannot be destroyed by storms. I glean and prepare for the next storm by surviving this one.
I am what remains after the skies clear and God kisses me.
© Kimberly Anne Wallace October 13, 2022
