I'm listening to some very poignant piano music I only just stumbled upon somewhere deep within the reaches if the Internet, and it has inspired me to abandon my responsibilities to schoolwork and friends by writing on this blog.
Truth be told, Paul Cardall (the fantastic pianist I mentioned in the above paragraph) was not the sole reason behind what my conscientious self calls a rebellion. My heart has been heavy lately, and for once it is not because of my own insecurities. I've been chalking all of my recent growth up to entering adulthood- empathy is something you learn as you get older, right? I think I have always been an empathetic person, and it is only now as I become a *shudders uncertainly* woman that I realize what it really meant all along.
I'm used to the weight of my own issues being heavy. But when bad things happen to other people, in my selfishness I bear their burden, usually without being asked. This is just how God made me, and I am starting to understand that it's okay to be this way, and I should not be ashamed when someone else's demons bring me to tears.
I am also starting to understand that everyone processes their grief differently. I for one am a talker. I have to talk about things in order to process them; I usually cry while I talk about whatever it is too. My dad, on the other hand, is not like that at all. It's almost painful to watch him make a conscious effort not to talk about his feelings when he's upset. Today, for example, he had to drive me halfway across the state to take care of some college-y business in his hometown. Since it's my grandmother's birthday I suggested that we visit her grave while we were in the area. And so we entered the cemetery under the deepening blue of the April sky, and we hunted for my grandparent's dual headstone, finally finding it nestled as always between the little prickly bushes my dad planted himself after my grandfather died. We stood before their graves, no flowers or gifts to leave as a token of our visit. Dad kind of started to cry, and I started crying because I'm a sympathetic crier, and when one of your parents cries it's really hard not to start crying too, because you know something is really wrong or sad when even your biggest sources of comfort cannot keep it together. But Dad said nothing and started walking around, finding graves of old family friends and neighbors. All I wanted was for my daddy to explain his grief or hug me or something, but like I said, Dad is not a talker. And in that small moment in the cemetery I realized: sometimes you just need to let sad people be. Not everyone expresses their emotions, and sometimes the best you can do is just be a shoulder, a silent presence while they cry it out.
But you can be there for someone too, if they let you. Even if you are incapable of offering a physical shoulder for them to cry on, you can still send them a note or a text that simply says "listen, I don't totally understand what you're going through, but I still love you and I'm praying for you and if you need anything, I'm here." Sometimes, that is just enough.
For me, sharing the grievances of others is a humbling experience. It makes me realize time and time again how sheltered I am, and how grateful I am to God and my parents for sheltering me, preserving my innocence for as long as possible so that I may be ever more sensitive to the issues of others when I learn of them. It has also come to my attention that I do not, in fact, know everything- I know next to nothing, tragically. And most of the nothing that I think I know has to do with my prejudices against other people. I judge people too readily, which is probably why I am so often brought to my knees when I learn of the struggles of those around me. Empathy makes me realize how little of a person I am, yet reassures me of the greatness of the God whom I hope to emulate with my whole life.
So, the moral of this post? Firstly, piano music makes me want to change the world, pursue my passions, and fall in love. And also, it's okay to get emotional for other people, to be happy for them when they are happy and sad for them when they are sad. Some people need to know when you feel for them, and others would rather not. But don't be afraid to shed a tear or say a prayer when someone else's problems become too much for your heart to bear.
--Laura :)
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