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Reaching out a hand to hope

Hope. Let’s talk about it…

My dad has been in hospital for over a week with an infection that needs to clear before he can have heart valve surgery. But look at these flowers: the colours! The shapes! The gentle sweet scent.

I wake up and the engine of worry immediately kicks in, without a conscious thought. But the sun rising over the mountain picks up the bright green on the slopes and it is breath-catchingly beautiful.

Of all the 52 weeks of the year, this is the one in which I have to step up and perform – while trying to support my dad a city away, in hospital, when there’s nothing I can actually do. But the jasmine is in full bloom and oh! The scent is heavenly.

I feel like every time I’m gifted a moment of beauty from nature I’m reaching out a hand to hope. And then there’s another one and another one and another one. Inching along from one moment of beauty to the next, because what else can we do?

Published inGrief

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