Hope

This morning, I woke up with a small ray of hope invading my heart. I don't know why, or where this hope came from, but I am so grateful. Even if it doesn't last long, even if it is just for this very moment, I feel hopeful that I'm going to survive and join the world of the living again. Or maybe just KEEP living.

I'm with my family in Columbia for a few days, and there's something about being with my Aunt that grounds me. There's nothing like family-or maybe just those members of your family that you let into the depths of your soul, that know you like many don't. And also, family that have met tragedy themselves, maybe of a different kind, but that know that feeling all too well, having been to the pits of despair and back, and who can honestly say that they have emerged stronger people because of it. Sadly, our family is no stranger to sudden tragedy.

I remember in the beginning, asking my Aunt how she got through it when her husband was killed in a car accident. Not believing I would EVER survive my brother's death, I kept telling her she was so much stronger of a person than I am. Her response? "Alice, you were TEN when Bob died. You are speaking of the person you know now, not the person I was back then. The person I am today is a result of what happened when I lost my husband, who was my rock. I can honestly say I am a stronger, better person today than I was before I lost Bob, a person that I would not be had it not happened to me."

And she is right. I didn't really remember the person she was back then. At the young age of ten, I had my first experience with death and grief, and a tragic one at that. Not a grandparent, but my Uncle in his 30's, my amazingly cool uncle in fact, who would sit with Evan and I for hours upon hours and play our kid games while the adults played scrabble in the kitchen. Who would take Evan out on the wave runner and give into his constant demands to do 360's as my Grandmother nervously watched from the house. Evan was always a risk-taker, completely contrary to my personality. I remember waiting up at the lakehouse for Claire and Bob to get back from USC games, and we are talking late at night, prepared to run towards the car and jump into his arms. I remember bits and pieces from the funeral, and I don't particularly remember this, but Aunt Claire tells me I never left her side the whole time.

I am sitting in my Aunt's office in Columbia, looking at a picture of Bob in fact. It's been almost 15 years, and it took many of those for me to accept that he was gone. I think often about how nice it would be to be able to go to him and ask him for advice whenever I am having a probem, particularly with my "boy troubles", which are actually not even close to the great matters of my life!

And I wonder how long it will take me to accept the fact that Evan is gone. As Mom came out of twilight sleep yesterday at the hospital, she reached out to hold my hand(as she told me how beautiful, intelligent, compassionate of a person I am. Give this woman drugs more often!) I asked her the question: Do you still find it hard to believe that Evan's gone? She replied, "You can't even imagine how hard it is to believe."

Even so, even though it doesn't even make sense to feel this way right now, I sit here with that hope, close to joy, wedged in my heart, and I reflect on those things that really matter in life. As I waited on my prescription yesterday at the drug store, I picked up a book that caught my eye, called "50 things that really matter".

The introduction begins, "Big homes, luxury cars, diamond bracelets. These days we're surrounded by such symbols of wealth. And if we aren't among the lucky few to enjoy these prizes, we feel left out, stressed, perhaps even unworthy or depressed. Why? Those aren't the things that really matter in life. Not by a long shot."

It goes on to describe these 50 things, and I will not list all of them, but my notable favorites include memories, faith, bubble baths, passion, the sounds of music, seashells, candlelight, flowers, kindness, thunderstorms, family, gratitude, quiet time, contentment, hugs, sunrise, a child's art, romance, holidays, trust, holding hands, summer nights, a good cup of coffee, a sense of wonder, hope, companionship, home, you. It really IS, from my vantage point, all about the small things in life.

I will conclude with an excerpt from the chapter on Hope, which says:

"So why are we so afraid to hope sometimes? Maybe it's because over the years, life's disappointments can turn us to disillusionment. How many times have you heard someone say: 'Hope for the best, expect the worst?' That's not really hope at all.

Hope is being able to look at our world with all of the joy and wonder of a child."