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While on my walk today, pondering the pleasant mood I’ve maintained these last few months, I was reminded of a post I wrote one year after Zev died. It was a poem that, to me, was so very dark and utterly without hope that I still think of it as a sort of milestone of anguish; the epitome of the cloud that followed me everywhere, and every day, for so long.

Contemplating that darkness, it astonishes me how far I have come… healing and growing through my grieving.

A large part of this is surrender and acceptance. I believe I have finally reached a place where I know deep down there can be no bargaining with the universe. No amount of longing, pleading or wishing can change my reality.

The other component is hope. Without hope for the future, are we truly living our lives?

Somehow in the tearful and anger-filled days the first couple of years after her death, I managed to make the conscious choice to return to living my life. Not simply to exist and survive, toiling through endless days of the same meaningless dribble and routine. But rather to live with purpose and hope; to give meaning to my place in this world and strive to make a positive impact.

That feels like my first step on this journey of a thousand…


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