As waves crash against a broken shore of jagged rocks and sandy beaches, the sound of peace rushes through the air. A sound so unfamiliar to me that I am overwhelmed with the freedom that accompanies it. With each breeze in the wind that comes over my person, all of my cares are blown away. I can feel the seemingly permanent frustration with life wash away as the tide rolls back, taking a piece of my heart with it each time, a heart devoted to remembering and honoring my father. As the water moves towards me so do the memories of him, and as it rolls away so does my emptiness. I have been drowning in mourning, and it took this beach to save me. Welcome back Amber.
"How can I be alive when no part of my soul is living?"
I wrote these words in a blog post that published on June 30th, 2014. Caught in a fog of apathy I fought so hard to make sense of who I was and find a purpose for living. I felt empty, lost, incomplete, and entirely despondent. The ironic thing is looking back I did not know emptiness then, I did not know what it meant to feel incomplete. Little did I know, the fog wouldn't come full force until a few days later. I wrote that blog with no idea that I only had 4 more days of happiness, that I would lose my dad, my best friend, and my motivator in life. Little did I know that my father's death would cause my soul to die more so than I ever fathomed possible. Life has a way of catching us completely off guard. We worry about the future, we stress and have anxiety about such trivial things in the grand scheme. The real dilemmas in your life are going to come at eight in the morning on a Thursday and completely knock you off your feet. The moments that shake our entire being are circumstances we could never prepare for or even ever have the opportunity to worry about-- that is how surprisingly painful they are. So how can I be alive when no part of my soul is living, when a large piece of what comprises who I am awaits me in heaven? If you would have told me on June 30th that it would get worse, that my life would become even more "unlivable" I would have laughed and told you it was impossible, but alas it has happened and I am still living.
But contrary to what June 30th Amber thought, it is entirely possible to keep living even when your whole world comes crashing down. It is entirely possible to pick yourself back up from the lowest of lows and put a smile on that broken face of yours. I have found that in sitting on this beach and remembering who you are that I have spent so much time forgetting to actually remember you. You would not have wanted me to suffer a suicidal and lonely life, you would have expected me to get it together and make you proud.
I think this journey of finding you and visiting all of the places that remind me of you will enlighten me. I hope to be provided with insights on who you would want me to be, how you would want me to continue living my life. I know you would want me to be free. Free from the chains that depression can hold you hostage with. This beautiful ocean view was spot one of many on my journey to find closure. This experience will be the hardest thing I have had to do to date, but I know I will get through it. So how am I supposed to live? Freely, entirely free. I will live from this day forward embracing every moment I am presented with and be thankful for the emotions I have. Because, even though the pain of losing you hurts more than I ever thought it would, the joys of remembering you at these spots overwhelms me. The joy and beauty of this life are worth every painful tear. Just as the tides change, people change. I am deciding to change into a lover of life, into a resilient and genuinely happy person. That is what you would have wanted. I left a little piece of you here dad, but you will always be in my heart. I'll see you at our next spot!
How could I resist doing a little bit of bouldering? You would have loved to see me climbing here, Dad. You would have been so proud to watch me doing what I love while letting go of the person I love most.
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