sadness.

I don't like to think about hard things. I would rather ignore big questions and hurts and sadness. I would rather keep it all hidden and pretend like everything is fine. And then it will be, right? Fake it 'til you make it, right? Maybe that's good sometimes, but it's not always the best choice. And it is a choice.

And the thing is, I am genuinely happy. I have so much joy and hope and peace. I am not living in fear. I am free to be my crazy self. And I have so much fun. But there is a sadness, a brokenness.

I have been coming to realize that our society does not approve of or encourage sadness. It's not okay to not be okay. That's why, when we ask "How are you?" we know the answer will be in the affirmative. But it is okay to not be okay. We're emotional beings, and that includes negative emotions (for lack of a better term... they may not actually be negative. Our culture just dictates that they are.)

When I came back from Honduras, I did not miss it. I was not sad (or, I didn't think I was). I was hurt and angry and hardened and bitter. I had built up a lot of walls to survive Honduras, and those walls didn't just disappear when I went through customs.

When I was in Honduras, my Grandma Lamer died. That was hard. She was old, but I loved her. And I had no closure. I was blessed to have one of my pastor-friends walk with me as best as she could from thousands of miles away. I was blessed by so many people. But it still hurt. But I didn't let myself grieve. I had a hard enough time just living in Honduras without that.

On February 27, my Grandma King died. This was also hard. She, too, was old, but I loved her. However, I had been able to visit her before she died. And for that, I am thankful. And I was able to go to the funeral. I had closure. And once again, I am blessed by the community around me.

Grandma King's death has brought up a lot of sadness, though. Sadness over her death, but also Grandma Lamer's, my Grandma and Grandpa T., and also for Honduras. I don't miss a lot about Honduras, but I do miss some things and some people, and I miss them dearly. Many times, without even trying, I close my eyes and think that I'm in Honduras. But I'm not. And I probably won't ever be again. And if I was, it wouldn't be the same. (and maybe that's a good thing.)

So, I have been grieving. Weeping. Finally.