I don’t remember when the pain stopped. Was it when Tommy gently took my hand somewhere between the paper products and baby food section at the grocery store? A whispered prayer of heartbreak and healing. Or maybe it was later during a hug on the driveway. Possibly the next day with tears shared in the FJ. Or did it melt away with the meringue on a cloud nine pie.
Somewhere between feeling sorry for myself, and feeling very loved, and realizing that I do not have it nearly as bad as others right now, the pain slipped away. Like a ring that is just a half size too big for your finger, and slips off easily while cleaning house. You don’t even realize it’s gone until later.
The pain has been with me for so long, that I feel like something is missing. But I don’t miss it. And without it, I know I am stronger. Maybe next time I will be the one to gently take the hand of someone who needs my help.