Living The Life of a Wailing Wall–sometimes you’ve got to grieve and sometimes you’ve got to move on

 

03-5 Tourism - Western Wall Section

 

When I was about 10 years old my dog got hit by a car.

I loved that dog. His name was Prince. We spent hours together in his dog kennel.

Then, one day Prince ran out in the road. While I watched, a car hit him broadside.

Minutes later, Prince was gone. Out of my life.

Forever.

For the rest of the day, I followed my mom around the house.

“Why did he have to die?” I moaned, “I miss her so much.”

Mom folded clothes, set the table, fed the baby while the sound of my pain played in the back ground .

I was quickly gaining the reputation of a living, breathing, wailing wall.

Not exactly fun to have around. Certainly, not what my parents dreamed that I would become when I grew up.

But, I was a kid, after all. And, my dog did die.

On the other hand, my loss was not a mom or dad or sibling. As much as I loved my dog, it was a pet.

But, I continued to cry. For days.

I was quickly gaining the reputation of a living, breathing, wailing wall.

Not exactly fun to have around. Certainly, not what my parents dreamed that I would become when I grew up.

“Enough is enough,” My mom told me one day while she stared at my puffy eyes and crusted nose, “You have to move on.”

Good advice.

Sometimes sad things happen. They shake us to our core.

Sometimes it’s the constant changes that get us down.

No use denying the emotional upheaval. Going through it is sometimes the only way to heal.

But, there comes a time that we have to flex with the changes or we will never move on.

I still cry but I managed to get past I- will-be-a-permanent-fountain-of-sadness-for-the-rest-of-my-life phase. Many times actually.

Good thing.

Change is a part of life. No getting around it..

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