Brave Enough To Be Bliss

While I didn’t feel worthy of being saved, I knew without a doubt she was. So, the only thing I could think of to do was to try to model for her being someone worth saving even if I had to fake it. I was so scared I could barely breathe, but I knew it was the only way to potentially save us. And with that I saw there was some light in the distance. I made the decision to go ahead and go on a solo trip to Phoenix that I had booked six months earlier when I turned 50. It was my first bucket list item to check off. While I had traveled alone for work, this was personal. And personal things came very hard for me.

Most of all, though, me going on this trip meant Kylee would have to spend one night alone before her dad could get there to stay with her. After two inpatient psychiatric hospital stays, multiple hysterical drives across town believing she had ended her life because she wouldn’t respond to calls or texts, it felt completely irresponsible to leave her alone like that.

However, I was also beginning to understand and accept that I could not control anyone else in this world, only myself, so I knew the key to either of us learning to live was to give up trying to control anyone except ourselves. So, I went. And the light seemed to be spreading, beginning to be more expansive as I moved toward a different vantage point. It was the longest night of my life and I questioned myself all night. Her dad was reassuring and supportive, so that helped, but both of us knew full well it could have gone wrong. Fortunately, it didn’t. After that experience, I could begin to see a little blue sky come into view. I focused on trying to learn the things to take care of myself and gave up the illusion of control thinking I could save her. As an adult, she was the only one who could do that.

The more I stayed on that path of healing myself, the more she found her own healing and gained strength. And the more hope there was the sun would someday shine for her. Not for me, but at least for her.

And then somewhere along the way, I found compassion to be able to look at myself like I looked at her and everyone else. And when I looked at myself through the lens of compassion knowing I had done my best with where I was and with what I knew at the time, the more I was able to start seeing that the sun could perhaps one day shine on me too. And then there were days when the light began to shine so brightly that I caught the reflection and I started to feel periods of joy unlike I had ever known. And while we were each getting healthier, we began to learn things from one another.

And eventually the sun was in full view. I could see it there understanding the darkness of night would come again someday, but remembering the sun would also rise again.

I’ve received messages and gifts of butterflies as my journey has been unfolding, and when I do now it reminds me of Kendall and the butterfly release after her memorial service. It makes me wish so much she had been able to find her own hope, that glimpse of sunlight up ahead. Then I began to see her, as I routinely do when I pray, being held in Jesus’ arms

happy and free.

And remembering the unbearable weight of sadness, for her, I am glad she is free. My heart only aches for you being without her physical presence.

After the tears, listening and thinking as I was driving and watching the sunrise, I started hearing the song differently. I began hearing and feeling the message of freedom that is awaiting you.

At the right time for each of you in your healing journey, when your wings are getting heavy, you can let go when you’re ready…to fly. I now picture Kendall releasing you just as you released the butterflies. She will keep sending you bittersweet reminders, signs that she’s never far away. And while you continue to find the good in goodbye, you will also begin to feel the sun on your face with the windows open, the light will be so bright you’ll have to shade your eyes and then you will all be happy and free. ❤️

Sending you lots of love and big healing hugs, Ginger

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