“Believing In Spite Of Circumstances”
Hope is something that I personally have struggled with a lot in the past year. A few years ago I felt like I had got ahold of my anxiety for the most part. I knew my triggers, I knew what to do, how to react and how to help myself without hurting the people around me. On top of everything, because of this I was much more hopeful of every action and decision I made in life. Moving abroad for school, meeting the boy who soon became my husband, moving abroad yet again to work and build up our life together…and then my world got thrown for a loop.
In the midst of trying to figure out the ‘in’s-and-out’s’ of living with a boy (Hi, family of just daughters here👋) I got the call that my father ended up in hospital needing multiple blood transfusions. My best friend.
My hope was stronger than ever during this first emergent hospital visit. Hopeful we got to him in time, that we’ll figure it all out and that he will continue being the most brilliant person I know.
Hope stayed with me even months later, when I moved back to Canada and we were receiving misdiagnosis after misdiagnosis. Though as a family we were pretty certain we knew the direction this was headed. But we were hopeful. As a family we said even in the worst case scenario we are going to fight it together. We will hold him up.
But then, he got worse. Hope…disappeared. Or I guess, it changed. I was hopeful, but hopeful that he would no longer suffer in pain. I fought with the concept of hope every day that I spent with him. I fought with my self, with my spirituality and logic. I fought with people who told me “you can’t give up, you gotta have hope that he will get better”. Listen medical miracles do happen, but his battle was enormous, it was too far gone by the time we got the final diagnosis.
As a family we spent every single day with him near the end. But we knew it was coming. It wasn’t sudden. We were preparing for it. We took advantage of the fact that we had that time and we could prepare for it.
On my sisters 30th birthday, we had a doctor who had been with us since day one tell us my father had maybe another 7-days.
7 days later he passed.
My point in all of this is not to have a pity party. But to realise that in those last few weeks, months, days even, I did not lose hope entirely. It may have changed its form, but it was there. We took all of our love and hope and used it towards making his last moments memorable, positive and full of conversation and laughter. We were hopeful he would not suffer much longer. That he would no longer be in pain.
I leave you with a quote from Brad Lamm and his book “How To Help The One You Love”,
“Optimism arises from a perceived pattern of success. Hope does not. It springs into being amid the worst kind of gloom. It’s believing in spite of the circumstances, and then watching the circumstances change for the better.”
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