This is my new chant: “It is what it is.” I’m saying it over and over to remind myself that I don’t have the luxury to wish my dad wasn’t ill, because he is. Because I don’t have the luxury to wish that I were 2000 miles closer, because I am not.
It is what it is. And so is the love he has shared and continues to share with us and us with him. We do have the luxury of basking in that now and in the future. Not everyone gets to say that.
So it is what it is. And it will never be what it isn’t. And if I keep telling myself that, I stay grounded, my feet stepping one in front of the other because as much as we want to skip over or skirt around, sometimes the only way through is, well, through. One step. And then another. And then one more until we need to rest. And there will be someone there to pat our backs as we rest and give us what we need to stand again and take that next step.
It is what it is. And we don’t have the luxury to think that it is only happening here, to us, in a bubble, untouched by the innumerable sorrows and tragedies that comprise daily human life. Nor do we have the luxury to take that pitiable stance that denies all that is beautiful and wonderous and lovely within and around us, even when times are bad.
We are allowed to stand and be sad and be happy at the exact same moment. A sickness, yes, but also the addition of new babies to the family tree, and the love that extends beyond space, beyond time, beyond the things that break our hearts and mend them up again.
It is what it is.