If we were having coffee 6 feet apart, what would you tell me?

When Grief made itself comfortable in a chair during dinner, I would’ve told you: Hope does not exist.

(Someone once told me that hope doesn’t exist. Because, according to them, it can’t be measured.) 

Do you believe in hope? The thing is, Hope has so many definitions. Someone else shared this quote with me: Hope has two beautiful daughters: their names are anger and courage. Anger that things are the way they are. Courage to make them the way they ought to be (this quote is by Saint Augustine).

All that time before the pandemic started, I thought I’d been as courageous as I’d ever been. You already know this: I moved to another state—470 miles away from the people I love the most (and who most love me). I did what my heart wanted me to do. 

It’s the type of thing I do when I run away from the things I don’t want to face. I don’t regret it. As a matter of fact, I’m sad my adventure ended so soon. Do you always do what your heart tells you to do?

You see, no matter how courageous I thought I was—doing things I’d never done before—I learned that the most courageous thing you can do is love someone with all their quirks.

A few months ago, I was angry—angry at the way things were. And sometimes I still am, but I’ll keep those details to myself. (It’s true that anger fuels you.) Have you heard of the stages of grief? Anger is one of them.

I prayed to God to help me with the grief, and I read a few chapters from the book The Power of Now by Eckhart Tolle (to keep me from thinking about the past—the days before the pandemic).

I cried my heart out (that always helps). I filled two journals in the span of (what was it?) the last 4 months because writing always helps, too. And look, I’m here. I feel a lot better than I did in April. 

All this while, when Grief made itself comfortable in a chair when I ate dinner, Hope was very there, too. Hope is always there during Spring when the grass turns green and the trees start filling up with leaves again.

(I thank God for the return of Hope and, also, for that family of mine who loves me even when I’m grumpy.)

How has this historic pandemic changed your life? Be honest—I don’t mind if you tell me that you’ve been experiencing quite the opposite. 

The reason I’m telling you this is because no how-to-cope-with-grief article would’ve helped me with the grief. I had to accept the loss and pain before I could move on.

I did read an article about grief, though, and I learned about another stage of grief: finding meaning. I’m currently in this stage. Although sometimes, I do still feel a bit of the other ones.

To find meaning, I had to believe in Hope again.

I could’ve written a how-to-cope-with-grief article without telling you my story, without telling you that the last few months have hurt like hell. (Look—here are my words to prove it.) Instead, I just want to have coffee and talk to you about the season of grief without the IG filter.

Your amiga,

Andrea

p.s. – Here’s another quote on hope I found: Hope is the virtue of a heart that doesn’t dwell on the past, and not only survives the present, but is also able to see a tomorrow (this quote is by Pope Francis). It’s one of my faves.

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Here at The Hummingbird’s Journal blog, you’ll find the perfect read that goes with your cafecito ☕ . The read's secret ingredients? Positive vibes & rays of hope. Welcome.

9 thoughts on “If we were having coffee 6 feet apart, what would you tell me?

  1. Does it mean that you moved back home?
    I had a feeling things weren’t going too well for you because you suddenly went from a hundred to a zero. Granted, it could have meant that things were great, too.
    I’m sorry to hear it’s been rough.

    From experience, I know that grief is dealt with in different ways by different people. Also, even when it comes to the same thing and the same person, we still grieve differently at times. That’s why I don’t really believe in a one-size-fits-all guide.

    As for hope. I remember handing in one of my exam papers at the uni. “Aced it?” My professor asked as I handed them the paper. “I hope so,” I replied. “Hope so?” They responded. “Hope is the mother of fools and I was under the impression that you are not one.” It stuck with me. That saying means that hope is passive. Ideally, you forge your own path instead of just waiting and hoping. However, I also believe that without hope, one can go crazy real quickly. So, secretly, sometimes I hope. But then I get up and just take matters into my own hands as much as I can.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. thank you! yes, I moved back home, it took my mind a lil bit to get used to that idea. I agree, there’s no one-size-fit-all guide. 😄 I like what the professor told you “the mother of fools” lol. Had never heard it defined that way. Yeah, that’s so important, too, to act, to do as much as one can and forge one’s path instead of being passive. Thank you for sharing your insight!

      Liked by 1 person

  2. If I were having coffee six feet apart with anyone in general and it were my only opportunity to do so, I’d start by asking them what they thought their life was about, then take it from there. I feel like there’s so much that go untold, stories brimming with meaning and wonder, so it‘d be my pleasure to listen to it.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. That’s a great question, Irid! Your response makes me think of all of the things I’ve learned about people–their stories, like you, said brimming with meaning and wonder, which I only learned when I took my time to listen to someone share what they felt like sharing.

      It’s okay, don’t worry about not having responded to all the questions. You responded to the question that was more important, I think–the one in the title of the post. I usually include several questions throughout the post to give readers options if they feel like responding. Feel free to respond to however many questions you want or talk as much as you want! I don’t mind.

      Liked by 1 person

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