Light, Even in the Darkness

Light, Even in the Darkness

You know, I’ve been through some shit. Losing Dawnie the way I did — sudden, brutal, final. Then the strokes… one after eight years, and two more in just six months. It’s been a stretch of life most people can’t even imagine. And sure, I could focus on the pain, the trauma, the things I’ve lost or the ways I’ve suffered.

But that’s not where my head is at. That’s not where my heart lives. And it’s sure as hell not the center of my soul.

Over these last eight years, through all of it, a few people have told me something that’s stuck with me: that I’m a light. That I bring something good into the world just by being in it. That I’m kind, warm, empathetic — that I draw people in.

And I’ll be honest — it’s hard to see that when life’s falling apart. When things keep going wrong. When you feel like you’re being tested past your limit. But… I’ve come to believe it. Not out of ego, but out of understanding.

I care. Deeply. About people. About how they feel. I don’t want to see anyone hurt or lonely or struggling — even if it means I carry a little more weight so they don’t have to. Sometimes I tolerate more than I should. Sometimes I bite my tongue, even when things aren’t right. Not because I don’t notice — but because I never want to be the reason someone else breaks.

During my first stroke, in the early days of recovery — one of my nurses said something that hit me sideways. It was just after New Year's. She said I was "an angel of light." At the time, I thought it was odd. Strange, even.

But I’ve had time to reflect. And I get it now.

I know what real love is. I knew it. I had it. With Dawnie. And I believe in it still. I hope to find it again — and I wish more than anything for others to experience the kind of connection we had. That depth. That soul-level understanding. That truth.

And why the hell should that be a bad thing?

Why should it be wrong to believe in something pure — just because the world’s gotten jaded?

Why is it naïve to hope for something I know is real — because I lived it?

I’m not broken for still believing in love. I’m not lost for wanting it again — or for trying to help others find it too.

Call me soft. Call me foolish. Call me anything you want.

But I’ll always choose light. Even in the darkness.

6:46 AM 07/01/25