On the Purpose of Hurt

Little Girl,

Remember what we were talking about, about how sometimes people do things because of a terrible sadness? Well, that’s how you acted a day after your Papa left. I woke up to the sound of your crying and it was a different cry from all the rest. You may find this hard to believe but by now, I’m familiar with all of your cries. I know when you’re hungry or physically hurting or even just plain whining. I know when you’re practicing your dramatics or are frustrated by limitations set. But that wasn’t how your cry sounded this time. I think you started crying because for some reason, you assumed that your Papa would be there when you woke up. But in his place instead is a pillow you grudgingly thrashed in rebellion.

It’s hard seeing a loved one hurt especially when it’s someone whose every wound you know of. Your Papa is probably hurting too but it’ll always be harder on those left behind than those who left. He will never see the aftermath of things. He will never see you scratch everyone in sight out of anger. He will not hear your whines as you play the You-and-me-against-the-world role to a hilt. He will not see you bite, kick, lash out on the most innocent inanimate objects. All out of a terrible sadness.

I do not want to see you hurt, little girl. And it’s tempting to pacify you with laced words of comfort, of how he’ll be back before you know it or how he’ll think of you everyday. But the thing is, pacification is tantamount to not recognizing your feelings. You hurt. And the best thing I can do right now is to respect that.

You hurt. You are at your rawest. Life will hurt you bad again and again, sometimes more than what you think is necessary. But in time, I hope you will discover that even hurting has its purpose.

Wishing she was a bandage right now,


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