With Beauty Comes Pain

I used to think this phrase was so dramatic and pessimistic. I used to believe it only applied to cosmetic and superficial beauty. However, life often provides experiences that mix the black and white into gray. Beliefs we held confidently tend to be grasped a little more loosely. With beauty comes pain. I can now see how deeply profound and real this phrase is especially when beauty is not limited to appearance.

I would describe friendship as exquisitely beautiful. It has been such a gift in my life, offering safe spaces for vulnerability and authenticity. A kinship and reassurance that I am not alone in life. An arena where I am deeply seen and known, and the privilege received to pursue a person intentionally so they can experience that same sense of notoriety and safety. It has filled so many gaps in my life, and, in many cases, it has replaced the construct of family.

So, what happens when something so beautiful shatters?

Pain.

I am left sitting in the middle of the broken shards of glass, content to remember what the picture looked like when the pieces were whole. I know I cannot sit here forever, but I also know the moment I start to pick up the pieces, I will get cut. I know the intention of picking up the pieces is not to put them back together, but to throw them away. Somehow that feels more painful than the pain I know will come when I touch the shards. The only way I know how to navigate this broken mess is to clean it up one piece at a time. Yet, that process feels like the pain is prolonged. Will I be able to endure the pain in disposing of this beautiful picture one piece of brokenness at a time? Each time I pick up a piece – a memory – I have to fight the urge to set it aside with the hope of restoration. There is a finality in throwing away the pieces that wrecks me. I am bleeding with every piece I pick up. I hate the drama of this reality and I hate that I am a living exhibit of “with beauty comes pain.” I hate the thought that the co-creator of this beautiful picture has already easily disposed of the broken pieces with no permanent scars.

I wish it were as simple as sweeping up the remains and moving on, but I think it is the beauty that prevents this from happening. I cannot simply discard something that was so beautiful in such a callous and non-personal way. My only option is to welcome the pain and the scars I know will come out of this broken journey. I grieve the beauty that was and welcome the current pain as a gift. This gift reminds me that the broken friendship is worth missing and feeling the pain of its loss. It shows me the places in my heart this person was filling. It reveals the presence of love and the devastation of its absence. Mostly, the pain shows me beauty. It forces me to acknowledge the exquisite beauty of what was broken – the beauty that is much more recognizable when it is no longer accessible.

Yes, with beauty comes pain. But, with pain comes hope. Hope for healing and the anticipation that the beauty of friendship will continue even if this specific picture has shattered. Hope for seeing and acknowledging with gratitude the pictures that have not shattered and continue to develop, showing even greater beauty and strength. So, I persevere in picking up the pieces of this shattered friendship, tearfully viewing all of its beauty as it fades and allowing the scarred One to bandage my bleeding.