I saw a photo of myself yesterday at my parent’s house. It was taken in the later part of October. It is a picture of me holding Jordan and Madelynn without Shawn anywhere near; a photo of just the three of us. My new family.
I stared at myself. I looked hollow. I looked nice, but hollow. My hair was washed, my makeup was smoothly brushed on, my eyes were bright, my cheeks were flushed with color; evidence that blood still runs through me.
Yet, I looked different. Have I aged? Have I grown? Have I changed?
Is it possible to have the inside of you disappear? Leaving the outer shell to exist and make an appearance for you? I am definitely in that photograph and yet I am definitely not there at all. Is this proof that we have a soul? Is it confirmation that the body is combined with a spirit?
I think maybe I have stumbled upon some sort of verification that there is indeed more to a person than what is just on the outside. My spirit is real. My spirit has been hollowed. I can feel it. But, more than that, I can see it in the photos. My question then becomes, “did I need proof”? I think I liked life better when I could live by my beliefs rather than by my experiences. I used to believe I had a soul. I liked it that way. No proof needed. Now, I know I have soul. I have experienced the depth of it in a way that would never be considered easy. I have proof for something I didn’t even consider questioning.