Comes The Dawn

I’ll preface this post by saying – I’m not really sure what inspired me to write about this.  Perhaps that sometime last week, I remembered this is the month of my ex’s birthday, or that my Mom mentioned Aunt Dona to me the other day.  Whatever, here it is…

When I was in high school, my close pal (who remains so to this day) and I often found ourselves engaging in conversations borne out of typical teenage angst and likely boredom.  You know we’d toss around those big questions – are you happy?  What is it to be happy?  How can anyone possibly be so, when the facts are indisputable: whatever this life holds, you live it and then you die.  How heavy is that stuff?!  Isn’t that typical teenage angst?  At least for North American, middle-class teenagers (really more privileged than that, especially compared to so much of the world).  I don’t know for sure, but perhaps the good news is that we survived it.  And the truth is that we both were quite lucky – we had stable homes (as much as any home can be, but I’d say that ours were especially so…both of us have parents married now more than 40 years, give or take!), both of us the youngest of two, generally well-adjusted, except for this malaise that seemed to be a phase that we both shared.  Anyhow…

I open with this as background to what follows… See one day Sara (my pal) found in a Funky Winkerbean comic strip (anyone remember that?) this poem in the first frame of the strip:

Life Goes On…

And you cry, because things get so strange so fast.

And you cry, because nothing good ever lasts.

 We liked it so much in the midst of our angst, we had notepads with “Life goes on…” printed on them and passed notes in school on said notes.  (Perhaps we were a bit geeky, too! Sorry Sara.)  And then, one day I found this poem entitled “Comes the Dawn” by an unknown author.  I made a copy for Sara; it was all about learning when you’ve experienced saying “goodbye” to someone you love. Anyhow, I’d forgotten about that, as we moved from high school through college and into early adulthood.  And eventually I found myself re-introduced to the poem.  Here’s what happened…

In the summer of ’98, I found myself in a less-then-enviable position.  Not even 30, I was divorcing.  And my parents and I were together to gather my belongings, load ‘em on a truck, and get myself permanently moved away from that place, that relationship, that life.  It wasn’t fun, and to this day, I remember it being hot and humid (mid-July in VA!), and I remember it feeling stifling and humiliating and scary and sad, so very sad, all at the same time.  But we did it.  We sort of trudged along until it was done.  But before it was, at a point when we took a break on the front stoop of that little rented house, my Mom went to their car and brought back an envelope for me.  It was from my Aunt Dona.  Now, Aunt Dona was my Mom’s closest pal since they were 12.  I grew up knowing her, calling her “aunt” and being closely connected with events in her life.  In particular what happened when I was about 10 or so.  She’d been married 20+ years, her kids a little bit older than my sister and I, and she got divorced.  It was difficult and messy; my parents were a great sense of support to her (I think I can safely say), and while it was tough, Aunt Dona proved gracious and courageous and strong.  She made it through all of that, and I can happily say she found a new chapter that’s lasted 20+ better years!  Well, this envelope had a card from her to me with a copy of this poem, “Comes the Dawn.”  The card basically said she was thinking of me, but also that she wanted to share this poem with me, as someone had shared it with her long ago.  That poem…well, I remember fighting back tears that afternoon, but from the very first read, it struck a chord.  I put it in my pocket and went on about our business.  But later, in the quiet of my room before going to sleep, I took it out and recited it. And that became my routine.  Every night before trying to sleep (I didn’t sleep much then), I recited it.  After about 2 or 3 weeks, I had it memorized.  And for the next full year, every single night, it was part of my routine.

There were many things that got me through that period in my life (family. friends. Al-anon!)  And that poem.  I did not ever speak to my Aunt Dona about it.  Not once.  But I know that it was a big part of helping me heal.  And you know, I think she knew, too.  Someone had given it to her in her dark days, and so she passed it on to me because she knew what only members of this club can know.  The participants of this club (I call it “the E-club” and that’s not “e” for exclusive or elite, though “exclusive” is true in the sense that you only get to belong if you go through the big D…no, this is “e” for ex) are aware that going through this particular thing called “divorce” is utterly painful and lonely and sad, so very sad.  No one wants to be in the club, no one.  It’s my experience that no one gets married to end-up divorced (except maybe Kim Kardashian…I couldn’t help myself!).  So, when it happens, when folks end-up at this option, having something, anything to serve as a buoy through the sadness and pain, is a really good thing.  And this poem proved so for me.

And before I share it, I’d like to add that I did get through that period.  Into a life fuller and more joyous and precious than I could’ve ever known.  I don’t wish what happened for me on anyone. But I do believe learning lessons from it has made me what I am and helped me find where I find myself today.  I recognize that’s not so comforting when you’re in it…when you’re in the loneliness and sadness and uncertainty, but it seems the way past pain is through it. I definitely learned that in the rooms—you can try to avoid, deny, rationalize, defend, explain, or ignore the truth and all of its painful stuff all you want; ultimately, the way past is through.  I think Winston Churchill said, “If you’re going through hell, keep going.” Perhaps he was onto something there.  Anyhow, I did make it through.  Sometimes one step forward, ten or twelve back, but through nonetheless.  And the riches on this side…well, who woulda thought?! 

So, today, I’m grateful.  And that poem, Comes the Dawn, played no small part. I wish I could give the credit to the person who wrote it.  But it’s debated.  If you did a google search, you’d see.  This one woman was given credit, but then others have said that’s not right.  As a person who cares about plagiarism (I’m a teacher, what can I say!), I wish I could give the nod accurately. But alas, it’ll have to remain unknown for now.  I rest easy in hoping that whoever did pen it might know how helpful it has been, at least in this one life.  I’m guessing lots of others, too.  And now, maybe yours.  Enjoy!  And if it’s not so much for you, well, something else I learned in the rooms, take what you like, and leave the rest.  But I do believe, whatever you’ve been through or may be going through, truly,

Comes the Dawn.

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 learn that kisses aren’t contracts
And presents aren’t promises,
And you begin to accept your defeats
With your head up and your eyes open
With the grace of a woman, not the grief of a child,
And you learn to build all your roads on today,
Because tomorrow’s ground is too uncertain for plans,
And futures have a way of falling down in mid-flight.
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,
And you really do have worth.
And you learn and learn...
With every goodbye you learn.