I stare at the blinking cursor willing the right words to come. They don’t come. And I continue to put more pressure on myself and they get further and further away.
With only 3 days looming until the anniversary of Mae’s death her mother Susan’s words to me from the funeral haunt me. (She was comforting me when I should have been comforting her. But that is Susan. Generous and giving.) We clung to one another in the way that only grief can make you and she said “Never stop writing. Your words touch people. They matter.” I promised. I have failed at my promise. But I keep trying.
And hoping.
Why though do we never talk about the dark side of hope? The nagging fear that we may be holding on to hope that is impossible? Should we temper our hope or let it run free even in the face of seeming impossibility? How do we hold onto it then? Do we try to balance it or indulge it blindly? When do we let go of hope for certain things so that acceptance and grief can change our direction and focus?
All of the questions. None of the answers. Just overwhelming sadness weighing me down as I get through one more day. Trying to grasp at hope and feeling hopeless anyway.
Gratuitous photo of Haley reminding me that love is the answer even in the face of uncertainty and despair:
seizinghopedotcom 
Why don’t we talk about the dark side of hope? Because we don’t know how (?). The dreamy pisces side of my says you never, ever give up hope. Even when you accept a desperate, impossible situation, you hope. The logical side of me says you prepare for every eventuality, good and bad. The friend part of me says come over for a hug and a glass of wine. (Ongoing invitation!).
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Thank you for your blog. And for your writing. It does touch people. It’s touched me. Being the parent of a child with intractable seizures isn’t easy. And hope is often hard to hold onto.
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