#3 of a 4 part series
No matter how hard I try, I can’t rid my face of these deep-rooted lines. The ones that settled themselves into my skin when I couldn’t un-crumple my face from agony. There is an exhaustion that lives in my features that no skin cream can cure, these lines have been earned through trauma & sleepless nights of bad dreams.
Beyond the sadness you feel after you lose a loved one, beyond the bone-deep sorrow and flutters of confusion - there is a raggedness that settles into your features, and strangely the hard lines seem to soften you, making it clear you have a heart that has seen dark days.
Grief ages you. It makes you wiser, softer, harder, less approachable, more empathetic, aware of time, aware of useless conversations, and braver to say exactly what you feel.
Aged beyond my years is how I feel, and why wouldn’t I?
I have lived through my son's entire life already... I have seen the start & the end of something precious.
And yet... I keep putting on my cream. I’ll keep slathering my lips with ointment and I’ll push & pull the skin around my eyes to make the lines disappear for a moment. I’ll look younger in a certain light, I’ll look fresh with a coat of cover-up. But underneath it all, the years are there.
If I wear them proudly or not, they remain.
And some days, I am proud of them. Some days, I see the age that coats my features and thinks “I survived”.
I survived.
The years of loss, and love.
