![]() Holy Week is here and as Easter draws near, we, as Christians, have hope at the forefront of our minds. We rejoice in, and yearn for, the promises the Resurrection brings: eternal life, freedom from pain, reunion with our deceased loved ones and hope for the future. Merriam-Webster defines 'Hope' as "a desire accompanied by expectation of or belief in fulfillment; confident that something good will happen; a feeling of trust". For those of us grieving the loss of a grandchild, the meaning of hope runs a little deeper. It runs more akin to a definition provided by thefreedictionary.com where it is described as "a theological virtue ... the desire and search for a future good, difficult, but not impossible to attain with God's help." For those of us in grief, hope manifests in the form of being able to move forward in our lives with purpose, to be able to function positively in society and in our homes. It means being able to actively support our children who are struggling with their loss while we battle our own griefs. We need the strength that comes from God and from our identity as 'Easter People'. While we perceive Holy Week as glorious, miraculous and as the basis of our faith, we also know that hope is needed more than just one week of the year. I am thankful to have experienced glimpses of hope during the past 12 months. These seemingly small happenings helped me rise above my sorrow when grief bore it's weight. * My daughter-in-law chose to share a dinner-table discussion she had with my son and three granddaughters. The twins, Kitty's age and 2/3 of the 'triplet cousins', had a homework assignment that asked the often heard question, "If you could have dinner with anyone, who would it be and what would you talk about?" The very simple, yet beautiful response they gave was this: ' We would want to have dinner with Kitty so she could tell us what it would be like to be in Heaven.' My heart welled with love and hope. Of course Kitty is in Heaven and because of Easter, we will see her again. * During the pandemic, serving meals at Ronald McDonald House (RMH) has been on hold, keeping us from our biannual tradition of volunteering in Kitty's memory. Mandy called one day, excited to have an idea for an alternate activity that we can do as a family to support RMH. Following our conversation, I realized that my daughter's enthusiasm, her plan to memorialize her child through this volunteer effort, is a sign of hope. She continues to move ahead, using Kitty's life and death, for the good of others, for love of neighbor. “We are an Easter People and Alleluia is our song!” We are not looking for a shallow joy but rather a joy that comes from faith, that grows through unselfish love, that respects the “fundamental duty of love of neighbor, without which it would be unbecoming to speak of Joy.” - Pope John Paul II * Most recently, an email popped into Mandy's email from a well-credentialed, local therapist. The purpose of her message was simply to say 'thank you'. This therapist counsels DWI offenders and her tools include a few old newspaper clippings detailing Kitty's story, our family's legal and personal journey and a copy of Mandy's book, "Stella's Story, Dealing with Sibling Loss". She wrote about reading the book to her clients, mostly adult males, whose response is never less than emotional. She expressed gratitude for the impact our story has on her clients, giving them hope for the future. We find solidarity in hope. Alleluia! Throughout our celebration of Holy Week and with the joy that comes on Easter morning, hope is truly the highlight. I feel blessed to be reminded of it's presence not only during this most holy week, but at moments scattered among daily happenings all year 'round. 'Hope Happenings' may not always be obvious, but by staying open, listening and being aware, these blessings can be found. Prayers for you at Easter. May you find peace and joy in hope.
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