Climbing rose of hope

It was one long, lonely walk down drafty hospital corridors at 1:00 a.m. to get to my car last December 26. The plastic holiday wreaths left me as cold as my car did while I struggled to get the engine to turn over.

I’d pulled into the lot 15 hours before, the wife of a sick man.

I was now pulling out, a widow.

While navigating snow packed roads below guided by the twinkling stars above, I thought how different my journey would be in the days ahead.

And it has been.

But so far it’s been a trip offering incredible growth and promise.

I’ve learned how to grieve and did for my husband, and finally for Mom who passed the year before.

I’ve learned to channel disappointment with obstacles found on the caregiving path into gemstones, by reaching out to others through writing and volunteering.

And I’m re-learning how to have fun.

Probably my biggest opportunity.

Though I still occasionally fall into the ditch lamenting loss of family members and loss of a decade to caregiving, I like to think of myself as a climbing yellow rose.

I plan to keep on growing and reaching for every brilliant star in the sky.

As there still many miles of scenic roadways left to travel, offering just the right vantage point.

4 thoughts on “Climbing rose of hope

  1. “I like to think of myself as a climbing yellow rose” Now that is beautiful thought. Wish I could say the same but I feel more like I’m in a rowing boat without oars and with a big hole and I’m pouring out water for dear life. I wish I had closer to the shore and I could just leave the boat and wade ashore. Well, one day at a time.

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