We let stuff get to us, normal stuff that almost everyone deals with, and oh do we ever complain. If you think you don’t, well, I dunno. I mean I guess it’s possible that you are pure Gladiator in the face of all things ‘life’, but c’mon.
Deep down… you know your inner-voice is a whiny little bitch sometimes, don’t ya?
But this living is so strange, isn’t it.
She surrounds us with her sexy majesty and soft magic and as imperfect mortals we take it in the best we can, but still, our string of days can be taxing and exhausting almost as often as they sparkle or shine. No one said anything was going to be easy and they were right by keeping their traps shut.
Yet, every now and again something cosmic, something bigger than words tracks us down and we get reminded just in the nick of time that, for the most part,for all of our everyday everyman bitching, most of our lives have been pretty awesome this far into the game.
Think back on your own tale if you don’t believe me:
We played Little League and joined the Cub Scouts and learned to swim in the eyes of someone who loved us, chlorine dimming our view of them, but still knowing they were just out of reach.
We went sledding with our friends when school was canceled, the cold not cold to us at all; our spirits as high as young spirits could ever be.
We grew older and kissed our first soft lips in the roller rink darkness and we felt more alive than ever before. In our beds at night we read some books and fell asleep in a warm safe place. Eventually, we fell in love with another person, maybe a lot of them, and in between those times we found ourselves okay despite our perplexed hearts.
All along the trail, we’ve been eating ate some damn fine food. Maybe you’ve sipped at some good wine too; I hope you have; I know I did.
We’ve seen the sunset more times than we can count, over oceans and over mountains and over big city skylines, and more often than not we took at least a single internal moment to process how freaking remarkable it was.
Some of us got married.
Some of us had kids.
We formed unbreakable bonds only to have them tested again and again. And along the way we’ve all lost someone we loved, which hurt like hell.
Still some of us lost someone they we were so looking forward to loving that the whole damn experience up until now, the entire ride that they have doing their best to navigate across the flaming universe, they were forced to doubt every second of it when all of the sudden it became harder and sadder and deeper than any of us ever imagined possible.
People say things happen for a reason and I guess I can agree with that. Things happening for a reason makes us feel better when we simply cannot figure out where the justice or poetry lives during our toughest days.
Which brings us to this.
The writer Marcus Brotherton and his wife have been through a lot of life together the past few years. And although they have suffered at times and certainly paid their share of dues when it comes to losing an expected child, or in their case, several children, through a number of heartbreaking miscarriages, as I was reading Marcus’s story today, a piece called How a Man Handles a Miscarriage, (over at one of my favorite websites, The Art of Manliness) it dawned on me that inner-strength and inner-peace and the ability to survive with grace and dignity in this rough and tumble world most often finds it’s poster people in the ones who have had to experience way more blues than the rest of us.
Dealing with a miscarriage is a terribly terribly difficult thing. I simply can’t imagine it. And for those who find themselves doing so, the weight must be nothing less than a dinosaur on their chest.
So, as soon as I read Marcus Brotherton’s piece today I knew right away that I really wanted to help spread it around in my own little way, by writing a bit about it and how powerful and sad and beautiful and spiritually badass I found it. And I’m purposely not quoting from it here because I believe it is a piece that needs and deserves to be read in one short sitting, not in a couple of soundbites.
Anyways, I really really hope that anyone at all who is hurting in the wake of a miscarriage gets the chance to read his words.
You can also find Serge on his personal blog, Thunder Pie.
Keep up with Babble.com on Facebook.
More from Serge: