When people learn to talk about their pain...

It is beautiful when people slowly learn to talk about their pain and sorrows. Not the grief that touches your skin and fades away after sleep. The kind of grief that burns your soul and instils a fear that you can never be the same. The type of suffering you don't deserve but have to succumb to anyway.

When people initially try to talk about it, their eyes would swell with tears. Words would choke on a hard lump in the throat. As images of that day flash across the mind, pangs of pain would make them tremble. At first, they talk with a shivering voice in between sobs. They purse their lips in an attempt to suppress the wail. Or sometimes they choose silence.

Days pass by, and people start putting their minds on other things. When asked about it, they experiment with words to coherently frame it. They try hard to choose words that can convey the incidents from the day but not the pain.

They would still be dejected, not meeting the listener's eyes when speaking of the day. Still, people would have learnt to complete sentences without a whimper and with no tears in their eyes.

And more days go by. They reach stability or act like they do. The sorrow wouldn't have lessened, but people would have grown stronger living by it. They start to accept it as a part of their life. Part of their memory. And part of themselves. Like a scar from childhood.

Eventually, they learn to talk of it without connecting to the day it all happened. People begin to narrate it with only the lips and not the heart. Their eyes would still hold traces of the pain from that day, but they would be gone to the deepest depths of the memory, far from reach.

Isn't it beautiful to see people grow over pain and realize - well, life goes on?