The tears

And when the fear, anger and whatever else subside, they give way to something else. Sadness. Not the intense sadness of helplessness and hopelessness, but the poignant feeling that comes with watching the coals within a real fireplace when it's about to go out and slowly put away everything into darkness. The coals. Those coals. I will never forget that feeling. And I will never forget Beethoven's 7th. Together with the coals. Suddenly the world becomes gloriously sad. Yes gloriously, because it's at that exact point when I somehow managed to accept the sadness, to accept that yes it was very sad, to accept that yes I could finally cry and sob myself silly and it didn't matter because there was no one else to listen, and nobody could ever fathom out my silhouette in the pitch black darkness. That is a part of my life. Now I accept it. But it's in the past. And although the past is what makes us who we are, we needn't get stuck there. And if it takes a hell of a lot of sobbing, then so be it, because it is only then that the glorious sadness somehow starts giving way to the something called the rest of your life. And it was also those same coals which gave me the lesson of life, and that was patience. Because sometimes we square the dose which life deals us, we multiply and multiply again, when all we need is to divide and subtract. We have a right to feel sad, and it's ok to cry. It doesn't make us lesser people. I know that, because I've been there. And I wouldn't wish the same to happen to anybody, although sometimes perhaps it would be the only thing which would work.