~Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul~

I remember reciting this poem while sitting in hospital waiting rooms. While running laps around the building. While buying my fourth Latte from the vending machine. While praying in the hospital church. I was waiting to hear if my brother made it through his next operation. Time moved so slow on those days so I did my best to move fast. I repeated the verses to myself like a comforting lullaby:

~Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul~ And sings the tune without the words And never stops – at all –

I remember thanking God when things worked out. I remember finding comfort in the words of strangers. I remember talking to other hospital patients and thinking ‘at least it’s not as bad as them’. I remember searching for a second magpie when I’d see a lonely one. I remember manifesting and meditating – visualizing a bright future. I remember the relief that hit when the doctor said ‘good news’ or ‘it went better than we could have hoped’. I could breathe again. My parents could breathe. All because my brother was still breathing.

I also remember those other moments. The kind that drag your heart into your stomach. That leave you cursing everyone and everything, questioning what the point of it all is. Like when we were called into the doctor’s room to have a word and met with a long pause of silence. The look of sympathy said more than the empty words.

I remember the hope in my brother’s eyes. In his friends’ eyes. The constant glimmers and then how easily they could be snatched up and taken from us. I remember seeing him improve, then seeing him get worse. Seeing him walking again after being confined to wheelchair. Seeing him come out of a coma open his eyes and squeeze my hand for the last time. I remember laughing and crying together and being filled with gratitude and grief, love and loss. Hope and heartbreak. Till he stopped breathing.

It is hard to let yourself believe everything is okay, when you’re used to things being taken away.

It’s hard to have faith in humanity when you’re seeing lots of carelessness and cruelty.

It’s hard to keep going, to stay strong when all you want is to crumble and fall a part.

It’s okay to feel heartbroken and grateful simultaneously, to be both happy and sad. To be aware of both cruelty and kindness. To let yourself fall a part, knowing you’ll always come back together.

Tell the people you love that you love them. Appreciate your health. Take a breath. Be kind to strangers always. You never know who is struggling to stay afloat. Be kind to yourself. Move gently. One day at a time. One moment at a time. Remove the extra pressure. Because you just never know.