The Beginning of Something Hopeful

One week and one day ago my father died.  It was unexpected and complicated and I couldn’t….can’t imagine how I will ever get over the pain that is left since his passing.  He was in the hospital for 12 days, 11 of which I sat by his bedside holding his hand.  I talked to him, I sang to him, I read him the final tribute that I actually read at his funeral.  I hoped, I prayed, and then I hoped and prayed some more.  I asked God to give me a sign that my dad was going to be ok and after ten days of being in a coma he opened his eyes.  That had to be my sign and so my hope began again.  I left my dad’s bedside to go back home which is about 2 hours away but I told him I’d be back in a few days.  As I walked out of the hospital doors, hope was in my heart.  The next day someone else decided my dad couldn’t live the way they feared he would and they removed his ventilator.  He died 3 minutes later.  I wasn’t there and that was a plot in itself.  I blamed myself for not staying and in what seemed like an instant, my hope was gone.

My friends gave me so many words of support, words that eased my pain, words that somehow helped me stay ‘put together’.  The pain is still here and I imagine it will be for a long time but somehow, some way, I know that they will all be there with their experiences to help me survive.

Hope is something we all need but often lose and because of that I thought if I could share what we feel, how we survive, how we fall down and get back up again, maybe hope would be sustained.  Inside of hope we find the most amazing things, like friends, family, memories that give us back the strength we’ve misplaced.

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