Bittersweetness
Today I am grateful for the fountain on our front patio and for smiles-from both people I know and those I don't know and who are just being friendly.
I continue to be grateful for the writing skill of Katie Rosman in her book If You Knew Suzy. (See yesterday's post.)
She beautifully captures the contrast of human emotions that allows us to survive pain and to appreciate joy. She captures it in these words about "bittersweetness."
From pp. 72-73:
"The sweetness of the experience was connected to the bitterness. I couldn't have felt one without the other. It occurred to me that sometimes bittersweetness might be as much as a person can reasonably hope for."
Bittersweet is an intriguing word. It's a real emotion too. It is what I feel every year on my son's birthday. It is what I feel when I consider what I both lost and gained when my breasts were removed.
I so appreciate the healthy growth and development of my son Sam into his own unique person, but the rapid pace of the years passing leaves me sad at times. I still miss cuddling him and breastfeeding him as an infant.
I learned valuable things about myself and came to a new acceptance about my body after my breasts were removed, but there's residual anger in some moments when I think about the "Big C" roaring through my life and the lives of my sisters and friends.
If things were "sweet" all the time, we wouldn't appreciate them. If things were "bitter" all the time, we would give up. In combination, they allow us to proceed from day to day.
I continue to be grateful for the writing skill of Katie Rosman in her book If You Knew Suzy. (See yesterday's post.)
She beautifully captures the contrast of human emotions that allows us to survive pain and to appreciate joy. She captures it in these words about "bittersweetness."
From pp. 72-73:
"The sweetness of the experience was connected to the bitterness. I couldn't have felt one without the other. It occurred to me that sometimes bittersweetness might be as much as a person can reasonably hope for."
Bittersweet is an intriguing word. It's a real emotion too. It is what I feel every year on my son's birthday. It is what I feel when I consider what I both lost and gained when my breasts were removed.
I so appreciate the healthy growth and development of my son Sam into his own unique person, but the rapid pace of the years passing leaves me sad at times. I still miss cuddling him and breastfeeding him as an infant.
I learned valuable things about myself and came to a new acceptance about my body after my breasts were removed, but there's residual anger in some moments when I think about the "Big C" roaring through my life and the lives of my sisters and friends.
If things were "sweet" all the time, we wouldn't appreciate them. If things were "bitter" all the time, we would give up. In combination, they allow us to proceed from day to day.
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