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Now I can barely look at my camera, let alone hold it.Like his death zapped every ounce of creative energy right out of me.
But I also miss it so painfully.Photography wasn’t just a hobby, it was a part of my identity.
“What’s stopping you from trying?”he asks.
“I don’t really know anymore—fear most likely.”
In my periphery, his head turns toward me.“Fear of what?”
Isn’t that a loaded question?“It’s not just one thing.It’s many.Fear that it won’t be the same, that I won’t be good at it anymore or even know what I’m doing.”Fear of moving on.I don’t dare say that one out loud, though.
I feel stuck in this grief limbo, unable to move forward but not wanting to move back either.Just…stuck.But I know my fear stems from not wanting to forget my memories of Robbie.And maybe it’s a little about the fear of what lies ahead in this new, unfamiliar path I’m now facing alone.
“You’re braver than you think.”
“Maybe,” I mutter.
“You are.You just have to believe it.Like Tinker Bell.”
I fight back a smile as I turn to him.“Did you just reference a Disney character?”
He shrugs.
“I’m gonna need you to elaborate.”I grew up loving all things Disney, but I’m rusty when it comes to Peter Pan and crew.
“It’s the Tinker Bell effect.If you believe it, then it exists.If you believe you’re brave, then you are.If you believe you can pick up your camera, then you can.”
I absorb his words as we make our way back down the mountain and on the hour-long drive back to my house.By the time he drops me off, my world feels as though it’s once again completely shifted underneath me.And one thought keeps swirling around my mind.
If I believe it, I can do it.
Does that apply to moving forward?
