“See you tomorrow!”
This is a phrase I’ve fought with over and over. My brain twists every aspect of these three words. A seemingly positive statement has turned into tunnel of hurt and fear.
How can I say, “see you tomorrow” when I live in the darkness and can’t bear to open my eyes every morning? Why would anyone want to see me tomorrow? Why must I have a tomorrow?
So many people are deprived of the privilege to have another tomorrow. Heavy hearts plead out to God begging for just one more day with someone they love. Everyone around me casually lets the phrase fall from their lips with no understanding of the meaning it holds. They believe they are inferior to the possible end of “tomorrows”. The possibility that time ends and life approaches its finish line.
We have learnt to anticipate our tomorrows. We live as though there will always be another day. Another hour. Another minute. But what do we know?
Is tomorrow guaranteed?
So many nights, curled up under a blanket of my own shame, I pray that tomorrow won’t happen. The fear and anxiety with the unknowns of a new day outweigh the possibility of joy. The darkness of night casts doubt on the possibility of dawn. I long to trade places with those who have lost their chance at another tomorrow.
Maybe this is selfish.
But know that when these three words – “see you tomorrow” – force themselves out of my tired heart, they mean something. They are not simply letters connected together to form a necklace of promise. These words are my taste of hope.
One of my non biological sisters says this to me every time we say goodbye. “See you tomorrow.” Her hope gives me hope.
A promise of new memories.
A promise of love and care.
A promise of hope.
These words interject themselves into my ever present darkness.
A crack of light.
A new day.