Hope for Hope

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This week, I completed the camp widow survey (see it here)

There was one question that made me think.. made me wonder. Without spilling the details of the survey and question, here’s what my answer was…

I hope to have hope again. The hope for hope, brings me hope.

I realized, I still have a long ways to go in my quest for hope. I realized it’s a little sad that I all I have is to hope for hope.

But I do.

I hope for hope.

Because hope makes me hope for a better for tomorrow.

Makes me hope for a less grief stricken life.

Hope that one day I will “get over it”, “move on” or “forget about it”, in the words of the none experienced.

Hoping for hope, keeps me going. Keeps me pushing. Keeps me from giving up.

Because hope matters.

And if all you can do is hope for hope that is enough.

Soaring spirits (If you are unfamiliar with them, see them here), brings me hope.

They keep me strong.

They have picked me up, wiped my tears, and told me, that one day.. it will be okay. Not “I accept it - okay” but kind of like “this isn't going to kill me after all, and that’s okay.”

I was talking to Michele this week and she said something to the effect of “I am grateful for the courageous honesty you show week after week on WV. You are a widowed rock star.”

I’ll be honest, I don’t feel like a widowed rock star (really, what is that?)

I have struggled… wondering if my blog helps and supports anyone. Or if it’s just me spilling my emotions every week to the written land of never never. I have had writers block like no other. I have scrapped the bottom of my soul barrel, trying to put my struggles into words. Trying to make my struggles make sense to the outside world.

I have had a friend (that is really good at writing) take my written ball of shit, and turn it into writing that makes sense to everyone else. But I write every week, because I made a commitment. A commitment to share my experience and struggles every Sunday, no matter what… that commitment gives me hope. Because come Sunday, I know I have a job that needs to be done.

Having Michele believe in me, gives me hope. Hope that my experience can help someone, if even in a teeny, tiny way. Having someone believe in you, when you don’t believe in yourself, matters.

This life matters. Even in the most shitty of shitty situations… there is a reason to go on.

Even if I don’t know what that reason is (yet) I hope to figure out that reason.

Because well, hope matters.