I don't understand sadness. Sadness induced by anger or the inverse anger induced by sadness has recently proven to be the most disabling emotion. When I'm awake at night, when I can't finish a conversation because of a swell in my throat, when my breath is shortened by quickened, crying induced, breaths, when anxiety prevails despite every effort to dissipate it, when I don't feel like writing, when food doesn't taste good, when exhaustion puts a damper on every single step. This is sadness I don't understand, this is sadness induced by anger that I don't understand.
This summer has sung such a sad song. I remember the freeness I moved home with, the joy I had about being close to my family and friends again, the excitement I had about traveling to New Jersey to see my friends there. In my mix for this summer were the ingredients for a sweet, and slightly sour, summery lemon bar, dusted with weddings and travel and friends and family who I hadn't solidly seen for nearly 6 years. As I think about what I thought my summer would hold, I remember the day that anger and sadness seeped in, rooting itself solidly in my soul and the soul of those dearest to me.
I was in New Jersey and my friends and I were walking around the block, ensuring the three little kids that accompanied us were smoothly sailing on their bikes around us. My phone was in my friends' van and at the conclusion of our walk, I piled in the backseat, buckled my 3 year old riding companion in, and grabbed my phone. I had a slew of missed calls and there was a text message from my mom.
Baby Brooklyn died at daycare...all I know is there was an accident at daycare...my heart is so sad.
That text message induced phone calls and confusion and conversations that no one in my family ever imagined having. It elicited love and anger and sadness, it initiated hugs that we wish we could live in. Since that day in June, I have seen sadness that I can't wrap my head around. In quietness, in tears, in the longing stares, in hugs, and in the attempts to move forward, there is sadness. I think when such tragedy happens, incomprehensible sadness is inevitable. I'm faulted for attempting to understand it, but my attempts come per my desire to absorb it, to take it away from those around me who I love so so much. We're all trying to do that for each other.
In this confusing sadness, this incomprehensible incident, I'm reminded of a few hopeful truths.
Although being human can mean experiencing horrible tragedy, humanity also holds the greatest kindness, the greatest love. I know this because I see it, I see it in my family and my friends, I see it in the sympathetic eyes of strangers, I see it in the picture of Brooklyn that sits on my desk. Although we can experience the worse imaginable things, we're capable of the greatest possible love.
As much as I work to avoid them, the darkest days happen, but in these heavy hardships, I know that experiencing them, in unison with my loved ones, offers insight to love that is far greater than anger, far deeper than sadness, love that isn't rooted in me alone, but rather, rooted in the soul of humanity, the should of the Universe.
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