Where will we be in a year from now? I used to be able to answer this questions with a bunch of plans, dreams, and actions, waiting to be realized. I would literally talk your ears off. Now, after loss, I ask myself this question every day, and I only have a bunch of question marks in several fonts and sizes to serve as an answer. Because I have no idea.
The only question that I can answer is where would I want to be in a year. I hope and pray that in one year from now, I will be in a better place. That I will have found peace. That the breathtaking pain will have eased a little bit. That I will have found unclouded joy and bliss. That I will remember Sahar with nothing but love. That we will have a rainbow in our life. That we have a healthy baby in our arms or belly. That is where I would want to be. That is where I hope to be.
The path to the future used to be a bright path, filled with visions, dreams and plans. Now it feels dark, long and scary. It feels like walking through a huge forest on the darkest night, with the moon hidden behind the dark clouds and nothing to guide you but your instincts. I don’t know where this path leads. I don’t have any light that shows me the way or guides me through, except that little thing called hope. The only thing I can do, is put one foot in front of the other, feel the steady ground under my feet and take that step. I don’t know what direction I’m going. I don’t know what door wills open for me in the future.
The truth of the story is, nobody does. We can dream, we can plan, and we can even expect, but we can never control. Whatever comes our way is a surprise, and that’s a fact for every single person on this planet. The future cannot be predicted. It cannot be anticipated. It cannot be foretold. Still, it never seemed scary to me before. I trusted that if I worked hard on making my dreams and plans come true, that good things would come our way. After losing Sahar, that trust was gone. Slowly but steadily, that trust is now growing, very carefully, with tiny little steps. But that trust will never be a blind trust like it was before. It will forever remain a cautious, hesitant trust. The realization that we don’t know what’s coming our way is a scary one.
But we don’t have a choice, because such is life. There are no answers, there are no solutions. The only thing I can do is go on. I am scared. I am terrified. But I have to be brave. I have to continue. So I take another step, and cautiously set my foot in front of the other one, trying to balance myself on this bumpy road while I try to continue this journey that is my life. And I can only hope, that a light will finally illuminate this path again. That the doors that open in front of me hold nothing but bliss and fortune hidden behind them.
So like every single day, I hold my husband’s hand, take the next step, and hope it will take us in the right direction.