The Deafening Sound Of Fear And Pain

“It doesn’t get better,” I said. “The pain. The wounds scab over and you don’t always feel like a knife is slashing through you. But when you least expect it, the pain flashes to remind you you’ll never be the same.” – Katie McGarry

MummyRideA couple of weeks ago I was at Universal Studios and went on the Mummy Ride. For those of you who have been there, you’re probably already smiling and for those of you who don’t, it’s a rollercoaster that happens in the dark so you never see what happens before it actually happens. While with most rollercoasters, you already know what you’re getting into; with this one you have no idea.

I’m not the biggest fan of rollercoasters, I’ll go on them, I will smile terrified as the camera takes my photo and the cart accelerates, but I’ve never really and completely loved them to the point where I’m dying to go on them. What happened on the Mummy Ride though took me completely by surprise and turned my life upside down for a moment. I could hear people screaming around me, some were having fun, others were scared, but I was completely quiet. And then it hit me: my fear, my pain, when it reaches that critical level, it just becomes invisible and silent. There was no screaming, no wailing, just silence. It got me thinking that when I’ve suffered the biggest losses of my life, when people I loved passed away, for the most part the pain was a deafening silence as if my soul was screaming inside, but nothing could be seen on the outside.

As for the Mummy Ride, after taking a quick break on the less terrifying rollercoaster, I decided to give it another try, this time knowing full on what I was in for. Of course the fact that I had someone incredibly supportive by my side gave me a chance to see the ride with completely different eyes.

This week marks the anniversary of a tremendous loss in my life, one that I knew was coming when it did (much like the second time on the Mummy Ride) as the first time happened 3 years before and hit me like a sledgehammer. It got me thinking that sometimes that little ride, that moment on the Mummy Ride of life when we hold on to the dearest and closest people in our lives no matter where the cart of life takes us, those are not only the quiet moments of fear and pain, they are also the quiet moments of love, trust, and gratitude.

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