We visited our old stomping grounds this week. It was good to be back among friends of times past. So good to be reminded that those friendships transcend distance and time and circumstances. I feel empowered by their care and kindness.

It’s always a surreal feeling to be back in geographical surroundings from our children’s elementary school days: entering a building downtown where our twins’ orchestra did their Christmas concerts; spending time in the homes of friends whose children played with ours; walking by the local amusement park where we celebrated the twins’ birthday one year.

So many fond memories. 

I cried at the ball fields at the park. I cried over the loss of my girls. They were so precious playing off behind the row of parent’s chairs at every one of their big brother’s Little League games. I see them in my mind’s eye, sweet and innocent, always having each other as companion and friend. I miss those girls, the little ones they used to be, and the ones I imagined they’d become.

The tears lasted for a few minutes accompanied by words of explanation to those I was with. There’s an ongoing conflict in my heart. The loss I feel is real and can’t be pushed away and neglected. Alongside it is knowledge that no one can ever go back, and there is something important and new around the corner. Instead of just trying to be okay, I’m trying to allow myself to experience all my feelings fully. My heart contains this incongruity, feeling the pain simultaneously with hope and promise.