I lost the month of July. August is nearly gone to me. The summer that once promised to be the best summer ever never was. I saw none of it. It passed me by. And though I was content to escape the DC summer heat, I lost precious months that I can't ever get back. Fortunately though, I can move forward. And I have.
Somehow, I've managed to claw my way up out of that dark place I found in July and fell so deeply into in August. Though the healing comes slowly, it comes, and that's all that seems to matter. What a difference a little bit of hope can make. I guess the saying is true - that it only takes a little spark to start a fire. And even when the pain flares up and the tears fall - as they surely will again - it will not be extinguished.
The scars I've gained along the way may never be gone, and I may always be haunted by the memory of certain things, but I'm living; I'm breathing. Life goes on, and though it went on without me for a little while, I take comfort in knowing that while I've lost so much, I've also gained, and now I'm part of it again. And while that may seem minimal at best, it's something to hold on to.
And I do.