I’ve been challenged to reread The Sound and The Fury by my high school AP English teacher. I remember being stumped by it and still somehow loving it. I haven’t read it since then but apparently liked it enough that it survived multiple book purges when I moved apartments and houses and didn’t have enough shelving.
I spent a little time reading the first section when I got home from work tonight, and there was a line in it that’s been stuck in my head since:
“We came to the broken place and went through it.”
While the character is just referring to a broken fence and this was probably a throw-away line, I think that sums up so many of our lives. We come to the broken places, and we go through them. And we hope like hell that we don’t end up broken, too, which is kind of impossible, really. We face disease, death, depression, and all manner of darkness, and we do our best to find the light to get us through it. There’s no use hiding from it. We find the weak point, we face it, and we push through until we find firmer footing. Then we keep moving forward until we get to the next broken place and we repeat the cycle.
I spent much of the weekend working on my book and a couple paintings to include in it, which is making me re-encounter all of those broken places I came up against over the last 7 years following my dad’s dementia diagnosis. I find myself questioning whether I’m wallowing in that pain, or facing it and dealing with it. It’s a fine line. I hope I’m moving through it and am not stuck in it. I hope that reliving it now will help me confront and eventually accept all that’s happened. I hope it will ultimately make me stronger. For now, though, I just have to go through it.