(akˈseptəns) noun;

the action of consenting to receive or undertake something offered; the action or process of being received as adequate or suitable, typically to be admitted into a group; agreement with or belief in an idea, opinion, or explanation.

The meaning of that word have been continuously wandering through my mind after my sister asked me if our mother really have accepted the state where she is in now. I looked at my sister, her expression troubled and saddened at the same time. Then to my mother, remembering her words she had written and explained to us how grateful she is to her close ones and in a way have let go and accepted this flow of life. Even if it is hard, painful, bitter and sour. At the same time I remembered our conversation the night before about how surprised but proud we are of our mother. We didn’t expect this fast improvement at all, physically but also mentally. But looking at my mom, I saw a glance of something deeper than sadness. I wanted to answer, but I couldn’t give her the answer or at least an answer that might satisfy her. And inside my mind I was contradicting myself. It was her first time in six months home again. It was something to celebrate. But she fell out of place. Home was the same, but she came back differently.

In the next few days I asked myself what does it mean or rather how does it feel to have accepted a situation? Has the word one universal collective meaning or does the meaning differs to every each of us? How do I feel when I’ve accepted the circumstances or how do I react when I don’t? Do we all react the same?

It’s easy to tell someone to accept. I am guilty of that. In frustration I’ve told someone bluntly to just accept the things you can’t control. As if it’s that simple. But I never meant to say that by accepting, everything is okay and we can all go on with our lives as if nothing had happened. Accepting isn’t that straightforward and the idea of it isn’t trouble-free as well.