A Picture Of Hope

Anyone who has witnessed a family losing a child has seen hopelessness with their own eyes. When a child prematurely passes way, everything is questioned. The tunnel of life appears permanently dark with no light to be found.

Oxford Living Dictionary defines hope as, “Grounds for believing that something good may happen.” Merriam-Webster Dictionary defines hope as, “to expect with confidence”. Child loss leaves us devoid of any of these feelings. It’s heart breaking, life altering and devastating.

I am a grieving mother who has been living for four years, 1 month and 19 days without my oldest son. My life consisted of months when I couldn’t feel hope for more than a moment at a time. It doesn’t take much to remember that level of hopelessness. Personal journal entries clearly outline this.

Eight weeks ago you were physically still here. My heart physically hurts that I won’t see you again. I truly don’t know how I will go on.

These words still ring true. My heart physically hurts. Sometimes I question how I will go on. This question comes up very rarely anymore because I know how I will go on. I will go on living with your spirit next to me and with me. Still these raw emotions are under the scab that covers them. They are not as fresh or vulnerable as they once were but they are still there.

The thing is you’re in every living memory from the past six years. Making new memories means making them without you. I don’t want to. Then the finality of your life is real because you are not making memories. You are just a part of some, just there in spirit. That’s not enough for me.

It is still not enough for me, you just being here in spirit. We haven’t made new memories with you physically for over four years. I will never be okay with what happened but I have learned to continue on. There are many new, happy memories that have been created. You are in some of those new memories even. Yes, it’s only in spirit but you are not totally absent from our lives as I feared when we first lost you.

It is my hope that any family who is new to child loss or in a dark place will receive my message loud and clear. There is hope. You can’t feel it now. You can’t imagine it now. You may not even want to know about it now. It’s there. It’s waiting in the wings for when you least expect it.

Hope starts to slip into your day with a smile. It’s so quick at first your don’t even notice it. Then it lingers for slightly longer. Each time hope presents itself it buoys your soul a little at a time. One day you feel joy. Again, it’s so quick that you don’t even realize it. It’s gone as quickly as it comes. Each time you see positivity, you find people who have been in difficult situations and are thriving. Each time someone honors your loved one, you get a surefire sign from your beloved. Each time hope grows. It grows until you start to see glimmers of light. The light gets brighter and brighter.

It dims sometimes and sometimes it stays dim for a few days but it continues to burn. That’s hope. As long as you continue living, hope will be there. I didn’t believe it when we first lost Christian. Slowly I had to see for myself. I promise it will not be this way forever. The stabbing pains will lessen. You will be able to breathe again. Nothing will be the same but there is hope. You will feel joy. You will smile. You will even receive messages from your child. It is in your future. There is hope. Love to heaven…

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