As we age, we understand that life is all about righting the wrongs. Changing the course. Getting up, dusting off, and trying again.

Like eating that broccoli salad today to invite those nutrients back into the body after a yesterday full of pizza and rum. Or quitting smoking. Or apologizing to your child for yelling instead of instructing.

These things are expected, they are human. But what’s unexpected are the things you can’t reverse.

In 2011 when my stillborn baby lay in my arms, I argued with God to turn back the clock, to bring her back to life. But there was no going back and all that remained was debilitating emptiness. I changed that day. I no longer believed that death was far away and I was no longer afraid of it.

When my Dad died in October. I was torn between wanting him back on earth and wanting to go with him. And there was some enigmatic joy that he was with my baby. That he would go to meet her. To keep her company until I arrive.

I feel like our elders have wisdom. Acquired by a lifetime of their hearts being ripped apart piece by piece. By innocence dwindling away with those irreversible moments.

My husbands infidelity steals another piece of my heart. Another shred of innocence has gone.


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