Signs of New Hope

This could really be a depressing segment of our "dash" – that space between our beginning and end dates - if we let it be. We could focus on the sickness, death, mental and financial despair happening globally.

Or we could focus on the fact that, for many of us, the pace of our lives has slowed, allowing us to finally catch a much-needed breath. We see opportunities to dispose of the old – habits, material things, nonessential obligations – and in with the new – opportunities to improve ourselves, our relationships, maybe mend some of our broken parts, seize signs of hope, and be grateful.

I took a 4-mile walk yesterday to cleanse my soul and sinuses. It just happens to be exactly two miles from my doorstep to my angel Emily's grave. I've gotten that route down over the past two years. I was feeling this need to talk to her for some reason.

On the way there, I passed by a farm where a newborn calf was attempting to stand up on her wobbly legs for the first time. I couldn't stop staring and thinking even though we feel like the world is standing still right now, life does keep going on. And there are miracles every day.

When I got to the cemetery, I immediately noticed a single daffodil was blooming by Em's grave. Another sign of new life. This made me smile and broke my heart at the same time.

I don't know what is about visiting with this girl, but the floodgates open in 10 seconds or less and I am sobbing. I think I unknowingly bottle up sadness and stress over time and this dancing angel allows me to let it go. Even if it's not all about her. I know for a fact that much of it this week is about the one-year anniversary tomorrow of our friend Greg's death. But she just lets me let it out.

You know how freeing that feels? It's like a weight lifted from my shoulders. My tear ducts, nasal passages, and mind are clear. And open to hope again. Open to listen.

As per usual in our conversations, I spill my regrets that I couldn't help her. I couldn't save her from her tragic end. Yesterday, in that tiny window of time when my heart and mind were still, she let me know it wasn't too late. I could still help others if I can find a way through my words to tell the similar parts of my own story. And my survival.

I think I've known this for a long time, but my sweet dancing queen knows a thing or two about timing. There's no such thing as being "too busy" right now, is there? Just need to be brave enough to expose my scars and let them tell their stories.

If it gets too overwhelming, I'll visit my little Em (or just M, if she's a he) for inspiration. Thanks, angel.