After my son’s suicide, it was all I could do to exist. Blistering pain, the shock of loss, and fear of the process on which I was to embark left me clinging to the sides of a whirlpool of grief that threatened to suck me in. There were times it was all I could do to hold on.
Finding hope in those early days was a bleak expedition. But I never lost it. If the day started with sunshine, I found it there. If it was a cloudy day, I found it in a flower. There was always a ray of it somewhere and that meant finding it where it was tucked away. I knew it was important because my son’s hope had drained away and that’s why he met the end that he did. I heard it being sucked out of him in that last phone call. But on that day, I didn’t know how to define it. I did feel it, though and I won’t ever forget it.
No matter what happens, it’s there. Hope. It may only be a flicker of a pilot light but you have to keep it lit because that’s what keeps you alive. Never let it go. Never doubt it’s there.
Find it by giving back, by walking outside, by walking into a place of worship, by sitting with a friend. Make the effort because it is worth it. You are not living without your loved one. That person is still with you in your heart and always will be.