The Little Warrior
I wanted you to be fierce in power and strength and never stumble. I wanted you to show up flawlessly and rise elegantly to the occasion. I expected you to live out every lesson you taught, an example of how life can be lived with a higher vantage point from wisdom. I wanted you to compartmentalize the feelings and coast through the obligations without wavering. I wanted you to be a rock for everyone around you and show no signs of cracking.
The warrior in you has always shown up strong during crisis. The warrior sends the little girl into the corner to rest, she is not needed here, she is not safe here. The warrior executes the plan and does all the things. The warrior has no time for dancing and no tissues handy for tears. She is big, she is strong, she is fierce. She is protection, she is wisdom. She is no-nonsense and tireless. She has gotten you through all the pain, all the unfair, all the rebuilds, all the start overs. She has been your hero. She’s always got this.
Grief doesn’t play by any rules. Loss doesn’t wait in line for it’s time to be noticed. Memories don’t wait quietly for a good moment to show up, they just pop, striking in the middle of a check-out line. There is no warning before anger strikes and your foot stomps. Your fists clench and the furious words fly out of your lips. Injustice just turns on a spotlight, showing you it’s stark, uneven flag. Unfair silently glares at you, daring you to try to make sense of its colors and patterns.
The warrior has no weapons for this. The warrior has no game plan. The warrior is confused and unprepared. The warrior is useless. The warrior has no options except retreat and without warning, just throws up her hands and joins the little girl in the corner.
Loss, grief, bitterness surround. It’s unfamiliar. It’s so big. There’s no relief and there’s no one taking the stage.
The little girl stops playing in the corner. The warrior stops doing squats and running budgets. The little girl takes the warrior’s hand. They stand up together and look around. They see their friends crying. They see pain and hear confusion. They cry too.
They hold each other while they hug shoulders and squeeze hands. The warrior offers strength and perspective sometimes. The little girl lets the tears and snot fall shamelessly sometimes. They remember Norah smiling and dancing. They remember joy and fun and wisdom and how it lit up her freckled face. So they smile. The warrior awkwardly kicks her feet around and throws her long arms above her head to learn the new Norah dance on the sand. The little girl is delighted. The little girl feels Norah’s spirit and declares she will never stop channeling this joy.
They walk together up the long aisle to speak to Norah’s family and friends. They look over and see Norah’s lifeless body, her freckles and face a motionless masterpiece. The little girl crumbles and sobs and turns hot with sadness. The warrior picks her up and lets her cry. Together they speak.
They find solace in each other. They share the moments. They eat popcorn in bed and cry. They find strength in their past and fall apart in their present. They hug others and give strength. They ask for hugs and go limp. They find pure joy in the sunrise and gleeful fun in laughing. They let the pain burn hot and then they set it down to breathe in life. They determine to live better, work harder, and honor her power. They determine to stop and be present, rest more and honor her beauty.
Most of all they realize they are stronger, fiercer, softer and more powerful when they flow together. There is no need for one to lead without the other. There is room for both. There is love for both. There is a giant little warrior. There is a fierce little girl. Together they face it. Together at last.