This Stretch Marks article is going to feel a little bit different than most of ours, and I hope that will be okay with you, today. Sometimes it’s just important to say what is on your mind and what is turning over in your heart.
Don’t get me wrong, purple shampoo and face cleansers are important, and I plan on talking about them till the cows come home. At some point we are going to go swimming, whether our body looks like it’s ready or not – and on that day we will talk about swimsuits. But today, I’m in a little bit of a different head space. Let me explain…
When we rang in the New Year and we kicked 2020 out the door, I could not have been happier. I’d wager to say we all felt that way, right? 2020 was horrific and none of us wanted to repeat it. ever. again. So, like most of you, I waved it goodbye, called it Felicia and went to bed.
But what happens when 2021 brings little reprieve?
In January of this year my Granny passed away from complications due to Covid. She was the matriarch and the heartbeat of our family. My mother, her sister (Melba) and her brother (David) were left – for the first time – without living parents. That’s a difficult pill to swallow. It’s new frontier, I’m sure.
In February we lost power for five days and spent a week locked in my parents’ house while an ice storm hit the state of Texas, the likes of which, I have never seen before. Sixteen family members huddled together, ate together, slept together and fought together. When we heard power was back on in our homes, we sped out of their driveway like we were fleeing the scene of a crime.
In March my cousin, Meridith, was diagnosed with Stage 3 Colo-Rectal Cancer. Her chemo treatments began almost immediately, and our family was, once again, shaken.
In April I decided to have surgery on my hemorrhoids. Call me crazy. I wanted to be able to excuse myself in a restaurant, go to the ladies’ room and not feel like I was going to pass out. The surgery was a success, and my surgeon was tremendous. But it was the most painful thing I have ever done in my life. Up until about a week ago, I have cursed the day I ever decided to do it. I am certainly starting to come out the other side. Just last week I went to the restroom in a TJ MAXX, and no one had to knock on my stall door to inquire if I was okay. So, yeah…things are looking up!
In May my dad was rushed into a Houston hospital with heart failure. He has still not undergone surgery because the doctors feel it is too risky of a surgery to even attempt. He is back home with us now and I cannot help but feel like we are on “borrowed time.” Even typing out these words for me, are hard.
Today is June 1st and I have been diagnosed with Covid. What I assumed was a sinus infection turned out to be much more. I am not pained by this, it’s simply a nuisance that I will take medication for and heal nicely from. What pains me is that my uncle David – my mom’s brother – suffered a massive heart attack and died this weekend. And it will be 10 days before I can be with my mother or any other member of my family to mourn this loss.
I’m not sure what the rest of 2021 holds, but I can tell you this: It’s got 2020 beat by a mile.
I didn’t write today’s article so you would feel bad for my family and send us any condolences at all. We are fine. And we will be fine. I’m writing this article today because my gut tells me…I’m not the only one. I’m not the only one who discovered that 2020 was just the appetizer – and that the main course was just around the bend, waiting to pounce!
If that’s you, I would like to remind you of something…
Hope is the last thing ever lost. (Italian Proverb) Underneath the mud and the muck, underneath the hurt and the confusion, underneath the heartbreak and hard times, there is something else. But you have to look really hard to find it. But look closely enough – and find it, you will.
Buried underneath debt and death and a divorce you didn’t see coming, are little pockets of grace, bubbles of hope and measures of mercy. From the wreckage of your current situation are friends, family, neighbors and new acquaintances who are waiting to step up and step in. Let them! Look closely. Turn your head just so. Move towards your heartache and see if you don’t find a hope and a gratitude that you did not know you even owned anymore. You thought you had been drained of every bit of it, but you were wrong! Hope is the last thing ever lost.
You will never find what you are not looking for. So please, look for the hope.
Look for the love.
Look for the family that surrounds you.
Look for the strength you had forgotten you had.
Look for the future and what might be possible.
Look for grace that is extended to you every time your feet touch the floor in the morning.
Look for the hope.
I thought it was important to let someone know today that you are not alone. When it rains – it pours. I know this, I feel you, I’m with you. But not one single thing will keep me from my Hope. Emily Dickinson describes Hope as: “Hope is the things with feathers that perches in the soul and sings the tune without the words and never stops at all.”
Hope belongs to us. It is buried down in us, waiting, waiting, waiting….to sing.
I love you,
Melissa
Melissa, I am hugging you from afar. What 2020 did for me was to crack the final layers ... I had been shattered in so many ways prior. With the sudden loss of my mom 12 weeks after a ray magic birth experience. The gradual loss of my entire family thereafter.. through hate mongering, unbroken abuse patterns, addiction... etc. covid then took my income, my work and left me with an idle mind, struggling.
But you’re right about hope. There’s a quote from Vaclav Havel about hope that I often refer back to... the poem If by Rudy Kipling - among other quotes about being planted (seeds come undone, looks like destruction but it’s growth) (if you’re in a dark place maybe you’ve been planted, bloom) (be like a lotus at home in muddy waters but Rise through the surface and bloom) etc.
You’re a beautiful light. Your humor and humility are a light in a dark world.
Sending you love and wishing you healing.
This got me... when you wrote that you suspect others are right there with you.... yes. This. We lost our 27 year old daughter in January. It was unexpected and painful (understatement). It is still very painful... and your statement made my breath hitch in my chest.. and tears come to my eyes. Yes... this year... and last year... I am over it. BUT! We are moving forward... looking to the future...holding onto hope for a better tomorrow because you can’t live in sadness... I feel you! I hope you feel better real soon so you can be with your family!