Page 118 of Hope After Loss

“It feels like they should be.”

“Nah, human hearts are great that way. They can handle the complicated intricacies of messy emotions. Loyalty, guilt, love, lust, excitement, sadness … it can hold the entire gamut.”

“It can, huh?”

“Yep. It’s the strongest organ in the body and the most resilient.”

“Mine has been so angry. Angry with Mike. Angry with God. I’m tired of carrying the anger,” I say.

She pats my hand. “It’s a heavy burden.”

“What is?”

“Surviving. When my husband passed, I felt all that. I was mad at him for leaving me. I was mad at God for taking him. I was mad at the mailman for continuing to deliver the mail with his name on it. I was mad at the grass for continuing to grow, like nothing had happened. I was mad at myself for living. It’s natural, you know,” she says.

“How did you stop it?” I ask.

“Time helped. People continuing to love me helped. The sun rising every morning, the grass continuing to grow … life moving forward. Just keep waking up and getting dressed and taking care of that baby girl. Keep putting one foot in front of the other, and one day, your heart will begin to beat without aching again. Who knows? It might even race again. Mine did. In fact, if you think about it, yours probably already has.”

I consider her words.

“I hope so, and I hope not,” I whisper.

“Ah, I understand that too. The point is that you still hope. Hope after loss is the key to healing and living again. Queen Elizabeth said it best. ‘Grief is the price we pay for love.’”

“The Queen said that?” I ask.

“Yes. After Prince Philip died.”

“She was wise.”

“I’m sure she was probably quoting someone else, but the sentiment is universal. All great love has a price.”

“How long do you think we have to pay that debt?” I ask.

“Forever.”

“Yeah,” I mutter.

“That doesn’t mean that we can’t have love again. Love is a part of us. It’s in every cell of our body. Our flesh cries out for it. Death isn’t the end of love. Death is the end of a relationship. Our hearts continue to love. Our hearts are allowed to love on.”

“What if it feels wrong?”

“Feelings are like the wind. They come and go and change on a dime.”

I sigh. “Everything is so hard. I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel or want. I know I don’t want to stay here in this in-between, but I feel guilty for stepping out of it. It’s so confusing.”

“Give it time. The wind will change direction, and hope can bloom from hearts broken by love lost,” Leona says.

“I don’t think I know how to hope anymore.”

She pats my thigh.

“The thing about hope is that it doesn’t have to start as a raging inferno. All you need is a flicker. A tiny ember of hope can move you forward into something beautiful, so if all you have is a glimmer, you grab hold of it with both hands and let it guide you through the murky waters. It will. And a real date with a man who has worked his way into that mending heart of yours is a great start.”

Anna

“Would you wanna do this with me?” he asks.