Not the healing kind
By Ada Ireland
“What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger,” the battle-scarred warrior said to me. It was supposed to be an encouragement, but it came out sounding like an order.
“This too shall pass,” the wise man added. A hint of pity and knowing melancholy tinged his voice. I felt him reach out and hold my hands, yet he never moved. Never touched me.
“Give it some time and it will heal,” the doctor joined in the conversation with impersonal, sterile words.
I didn’t have the strength to argue with them so I remained quiet even though I knew all three were wrong. Other falls will make me stronger. Other tears will come and go. Other wounds will heal. But this? This hole you left behind? It won’t. It isn’t the healing kind. I’ll have to learn to live with it.