Quiet of Quarantine

I’ve been feeling like these sunflowers since the seriousness of the pandemic has led our government officials to first recommend, then order, people to #stayhomeohio. Sunflowers grow so tall because they are always seeking the light. When there is no light 🌞 they lean into one another to share each other’s energy until the sun shines again. They trust (in each other) the sun will shine again.

I sit in the quiet of the quarantine at my desk in our Light after Loss office. An office newly obtained and not even finished. An office that is barely used at this point in time. It has pained me to push pause on so many things. It’s hard to lean in to one another when the social distancing guideline is at least 6 feet and that’s only if you can’t stay at home. It’s hard to serve survivors when the the world seems to have come to a stop. I believe the connection is key. Connection in quarantine is hard. It’s all just hard. Yet, I trust the sun will shine again.

There is more in this picture than meets the eye. I “feel” like the sunflowers who have lost the light in a time of darkness, but at my core I am all the things in this picture. The figurine holding bunches of lavender depicts GRACEFUL STRENGTH and a CALM CONFIDENCE, while her uplifted gaze projects a feeling of assurance. The beautiful glass sculpture is my HOPE Award given to me in 2017. Amidst the worst year of my own life, I advocated for survivors of suicide loss and offered hope for those left behind. Hope for “that one.” That one depicted by the starfish atop the tower of driftwood. If you have read The Starfish Story, you know what I mean when I say, “that one.” A must read if you haven’t. When I lost my husband Craig to suicide, I started his eulogy with the story of encouragement. A moment of pure graceful strength, calm confidence, and hope that only God could have provided at the time. A moment that has carried me through many other excruciating moments.

Walking into my office for the first time in over a week feeling very discouraged and uncertain about the future of Light after Loss. Worried about the suicide loss survivors we serve. I sit at my desk and see myself for who I am and the reason I’m here. The purpose God has given to my pain. For that purpose, I trust the sun will shine again because it did and it does. I know that until then, I have the graceful strength, calm confidence, and hope that the sun while shine again. I also know, so do you.

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