Hope

I know I haven't blogged in a while and part of it is because of this post. It's one that I have been working on for some time and I think it's ready. I wanted to post this at a time when some might find this during a time of need and sometimes that time comes around the holidays.

One of the things I have pondered for quite some time is the concept of hope. We all talk about hope, some people dream about it and other wish for it. Hopwever, hope is one of those concepts that you can't really explain how it feels to you on the inside and when you are able to wrap your tongue around the words that fit into your little mold; it's a meaning that means different things to different people. It's a fourth dimensional concept that some people radiate through their lives and yet others look for it and find this little, simple, four letter word the most elusive thing that no matter how hard they try - it's just not there. Hope in a way doesn't work (or work out) for them.

When Christopher was first told of his cancer my dad and I sat down and he told me everything that he thought I needed to do, know and what they (my parents) were willing to do for us.

"Hope for the best. Plan for the worst," was his motto. It's an army motto. And well after serving several years in the army I wouldn't expect anything less from the "Colonel". But I did go to bed that night and think - how can one fathom to have hope if they plan for the worst. Isn't planning for the worst really giving up all hope? Is there another way to understand the meaning of hope? Is hope dropping to your knees praying every day for God to reach down and spare your family from something that you yourself don't quit understand? Or living it one day at time and just having a back up plan incase things go south?

Friends told me that Christopher had all the hope in the world and I all the faith. So did that mean that I wasn't hopeful? What did Christopher have that I didn't? Was my faith in God, not hope enough? I started to question the meaning of hope and how each person in my life had a different meaning of the word. I often wondered what it was that I was missing in something as simple as a definition. At one point, I even looked it up in the dictionary to see if there was something I quit possibly missed in translation as a child.

I often wondered, if as much as I blew smoke up skirt, that I was just plain and simple devoid of all hope. Or was that depression setting in and taking over my thoughts? Then Christopher passed away and I found it hard to fathom life moving forward. I knew it had to be done and in a way that required grace. No one could tell me how I should feel or what I wouldn't feel. I wasn't even sure what I felt my self. And after a few months my therapist ask me what I hoped for in life.

I paused, possibly even scratched my head and stared blankly at him. I think there might have even been the sound of chirping crickets heard in the room. I wanted to say, "What is hope and why should I even have it?" What came out was, "I'm not sure I understand the question." It was at that point that I realized that hope was something that I myself didn't really understand. The events of the past had clouded, even consumed, what hope meant for me. I was sad, numb, angry and yet in everything my "hope" was buried alive somewhere locked inside waiting to be discovered. Looking back at old blog post I read in my own words the "hope" that I described to my self and looking back on this version of my own digital-self, I could see where "hope" was a word in my vocabulary used as a good metaphor or adjective. Now, as anything with grief, everything is a process and somethings take time and somethings come to us when we least expect them.

The meaning of hope for me came over time and when I did least expect it. On the 2 year anniversary I took two days off from work to give time to myself to reflect on what that day meant for me. Losing the one I love(d) and becoming this new person that I didn't know I could be. Both days I went on a run and after each run I sat on my front side walk and I let my mind free of everything that might possibly cloud it and started to contemplate the day and the events of the last almost 4 years. This was the same sidewalk that Christopher and I would sit out on to talk. It was the same sidewalk that he and Ethan would wait for me to come home on. It was also the same side walk that Christopher ate a sundae on before he slipped into a sleep like comma. It was there that things started to fall into place and the doors in my head that had been locked under pain started to open.

Hope, for me, lives at the corner of Twin Falls and Pleasant Valley Lane. In a two story house built by two people who cared deeply for one another. With a sidewalk that could tell you stories about who had sat there and the conversation and tears discussed and shed there. A stoop where first steps were made by a bounce baby boy. A door bell who ring brought the joy of neighbors, aloof strangers and toxic conversations. A home who's walls have seen the photos of two, then three and then two again. Walls that if paid a pretty penny to talk would share the stories of a couple who loved, respected and dreamed of a life well into their 80's. A home who's yard spent many a night with two people staring up at the stars wondering how the view looked to the other.

Hope is a conglomeration of memories that I hold deep in my heart and reflect on daily. It is a house that I call home and a street that brought strangers together as neighbors and now friends. Hope is the peace I get when I sit out on that sidewalk and let the wind blow through my hair and listen to the sounds of my street fill my ears with joy. It's the sidewalk chalk drawings from the children that visit my home and the laughter that fills my house from great friends and family. Hope is where your heart finds peace in the understanding that everything happens for a reason (even if you don't fully understand it yourself).

As we enter into this holiday season, I pray that everyone who reads this blog has a place where they too can find their own hope when things seem grey. I place where they can be at peace with what ever tangle web the world has spun for them. A place of peace and tranquillity. Peace be with you all. I wish you all a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year! Pax.