Comes the Dawn

My aunt passed away towards the end of June 2021.  We were never particularly close, I visited her in California for a couple weeks when I was in middle school, but otherwise contact was limited.  She had some medical issues that prevented her from having children and (what I pieced together) a strained relationship with her father that caused her to sever most ties with the family, with perhaps some jealousy towards the family that my father was able to have.  When she passed away I went with my father to start the estate process.  She had no surviving family, so the next of kin role defaulted to my dad and I suspected that he would need help, if nothing more than emotional support. We walked into an apartment stacked with YEARS of junk mail and paperwork to sift through, books stacked waist high in every room, empty boxes of lightbulbs, and even burned out lightbulbs saved.  In the process of this sifting, I ran across a poem she had printed out that for some reason really struck a chord with me.  I remembered that she had written poetry and even been published in a couple smaller outlets.  She obviously had an attachment to it that spoke to her heart and experiences, but I detect a power in the somewhat universal feelings that are being explored, even if specifically written from a female point of view.

Comes the Dawn

author disputed...

After a while, you learn the subtle difference

Between holding a hand and chaining a soul,

And you learn that love doesn't mean leaning

And company doesn't mean security,

And you begin to understand that kisses aren't contracts

And presents aren't promises.

And you begin to accept your defeats

With your head held high and your eyes open,

With the grace of a woman, not the grief of a child.

You learn to build your roads on today,

Because tomorrow's ground is too uncertain for plans,

And futures have a way of falling in midflight.

After a while, you learn that even sunshine

Burns if you get too much.

So you plant your own garden

And decorate your own soul,

Instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers.

And you learn that you really can endure,

That you really are strong,

That you really do have worth,

And you learn and learn...and learn...

With every Goodbye, you learn.

Notes that I found within the mountain of miscellany suggest a long-running disgust with her father (my grandfather) and, while I do not know the whole story, it does not seem outlandish.  It strained her relationship with the whole extended family and was always felt as antipathy for the others in the family.  Her animosity towards me was tangible within the papers that I found.  I don't understand the reasons why and will never have the full set of answers.  And I can confidently say that our stories and experiences growing up were different.  Yet, for some reason, this poem connected with me at a deep (even low-frequency) level when I found it in her mountain of papers.  I can feel her feelings and reasons for attachment to the poem, despite holes in the backstory, and even focus in on my own journey through the lens that author has crafted.  Perhaps the feelings explored within are simply casting light upon truly universal human conditions, but part of me feels like I was supposed to find this work for healing within my own microcosm.  Maybe my aunt even guiding me to find it as a gift.

Hopefully, this work strikes a chord with you as well, to start a healing process or add to a foundation of support for the struggles that you are currently experiencing.  People keep saying that it will be alright, and I am hoping that they know something that I don't and are correct.