synchrony

Some days, I’m just fine—as happy and as bright as the sun.

Other days, I realize that this whole process is so much harder than I think it will be.

On days like today—I am constantly on the edge of weeping.

* * *

Every time I try to sit down to write a letter to my birth mother, I am swallowed up by emotions for which I cannot find words.

And although I am reminded of all that has been lost, I try to fight to remind myself that now there is also so much to gain.

It’s just hard.

I don’t know how else to say it. I don’t know what other words to give to it.

My heart simply feels broken.

* * *

One of the hardest elements with which to cope is the fact that my birth parents and I do not share the same language.

I am unable to assign words to how intensely this loss of language affects me. It stirs within me such a depth of grief and pain that I find myself numb and speechless.

I can only weep.

It is an unspeakable loss—no words exist to convey with just potency the loss that swallows me and shuttles me down into a dark and secret place.

There will never be words that are able to tell of the emotion that falls upon me as both light and darkness with such perfect and horrific synchrony.

* * *

I can only fall myself—silent yet overflowing.

It is here that I find for what I was looking, and whom I was seeking—in all its wonder and terror, in all its lucidity and obscurity—this is for what I have been waiting all my life.

* * *

It was and remains worth the wait.