Hope is the last one

Hope is the last one to die….

At times it dies even after the death itself. Hope stands as a beacon, refusing to fade away. As we go on facing the adversities of life, hope persists, sustaining us till our final breath. Although in some cases, it does die before and that’s when you are said to be dead in your life or perhaps, they call it clinical depression.  

From the moment we are born and until the day we depart, we encounter numerous losses. Our aspirations, ambitions, trusts, relationships, friendships, attachments, parents, memories and eventually all the cells in our bodies. And yet, amid this relentless procession of loss, we tenaciously cling to hope, the lifeblood that propels us forward until we face our physical end.

For what will remain, if hope abandons us?

Each loss exacts a toll, steal something irreplaceable from our very essence. Some losses we dismiss, their significance can be overlooked, while others gouge deep and alter us at our core. Each loss transforms us in its own way. The greater the loss, the more profound and visible the change becomes. Others will notice it, and we will undeniably feel it. Some losses give us the gift of tolerance, as we surrender our energy, and our will to fight. Others empower us to sever ties with the superfluous. In my case, my loss was a chameleon, encompassing a myriad of effects.

Initially, I pretended that my loss had not changed me, believing it shouldn’t have. After all, everyone goes through losses. However, I forgot about the natural cycle of life-the force that engenders transformation, shaping our very existence and preparing us for our eventual exit. To resist change is to deny our own evolution, a futile struggle against the currents of time. Accepting change, or rather, evolution, sooner rather than later is crucial. It’s an undeniable truth.

Eventually, I came to terms with the change brought about by my loss, but those around me struggled to understand its depths. Should they have understood? Perhaps. Perhaps not. My loss was solely mine to bear, but the journey of coping with that loss probably could not have been so lonesome and that affected me profoundly. But I do believe, it was necessary for the change it brought in me.

Loss, my friend, will knock upon the door of every life, sooner or later. Change, with its unwavering grip, will inevitably find us all. Though some may fail to comprehend its present, they shall come to know its sting with time.

My own loss, in its cruel benevolence, bestowed upon me a gift- an insight into the recesses of my soul. It revealed what should matter, illuminating the path I must take henceforth, for in the grand tapestry of existence, nothing else shall remain. It also granted me a cleansing I so desperately needed-a purification of spirit and purpose.

Within me, some emotions surged, their intensity magnified by the void left by my loss: pain, loneliness, love, desires, a deeper understanding of my existing relationships and my need for boundaries.  And yet, there were emotions reduced to mere whispers-the need to keep up with what didn’t matter, expectations from others and myself, and the ability to perceive things that aren’t truly there.

I realized that, ultimately, only a select few things matter. Until that final realization is drawn upon us, we must choose wisely what deserves our attention and focus.

In the grand symphony of life, let us choose,

Wisely discern what’s worthy, what to refuse.

For in the end, when nothing else remains,

Hope’s flame burns bright, as our soul sustains.