I would like to refer you to an excellent article I read yesterday at First Things, entitled “The Reality of Hope.” It’s written by Amy Julia Becker who lost her mother-in-law to cancer six years ago. She writes about what the word “hope” really means as you live through the experience of losing someone you dearly love.
After she died, it was as if I had broken my arm. A part of me ached all the time, and something that had been functional was now useless, and everything about my daily routine needed to be navigated differently. It was difficult, for instance, to stand in line at the post office or buy groceries or make dinner. Nothing seemed to matter anymore.
I had spent much of the final six months of her life with her, my mother-in-law, my friend: Penny. And once she was gone, I missed her. I missed the Penny I knew when she was healthy—the woman who had enjoyed kick-boxing, who loved ice cream and didn’t like cilantro, who had hand-addressed our wedding invitations. I missed the Penny I came to know in the midst of her battle against cancer, who, after surgery, laughed so hard in response to a get-well card that staples holding her wound together were dislodged, who walked around the block in sneakers and a nightgown just to get outside, who held my hand as she slept, who said, “thank you” even at the very end.
You can read the rest here.
Witnesses to Hope 