Remembering to forget

You know how there are some things that drive you crazy but then when they're gone, you miss them? 
Or when missing someone drives you crazy and then one day you realize you forgot to miss them.
And that somehow makes you sad.

It's funny, right?

Why do we always say things are funny when they're something else altogether?

I think sometimes when things happen to us we think they are more than a part of us, but that they somehow are us.  Things happen, days pass, people enter, they exit, some linger in our thoughts long after they've left us.  And we're paralyzed and unable to step forward.
Falling that far again might break us.

And then we open the door and step out of our little caves and move on.
And in some instances, moving far enough ahead to leave the past where it waits feels daunting.
And then memory creeps up when our heads are turned and steals a piece of yesteryear. 
And the truth is we didn't know it was missing right away.
It took awhile.
And knowing it is no more is both comforting and disheartening.

Change is hard.
It's exciting.  And new.  And filled with uncertainties. 
And there is rarely anyone there to hold your hand.
Physically.

But forgetting the past, no longer remembering the former things but being able to look ahead to what is and is to come, is the only way to be.
We go forward toward the prize that is awaiting us up ahead.
And hope somehow that the demons have left us, the scars have healed in spite of us,
and a small part of all that was good is still with us.

That is my hope.