In the Morning: The Hindsight of Finding Hope

The day my son, Kenneth, died by suicide was a Sunday - a holiday - and the beginning of a new year. Jan. 1, 2012. Our world collapsed. So much of that initial day was a blur. People were coming and going from our home all day long. Tears flowed nonstop. How could I possibly cry this much and for so long? My intense thirst was almost overwhelming.

That evening, darkness, and a total inability to sleep. It was the end of a day that seemed never-ending. But, in the morning, a sunrise! The world had not ended, even though my world seemed like it had.

Throughout the next days, weeks and months of initial grief, the pain seemed unending, relentless. Nights dragged on and minutes seemed like hours. But, in the morning, another sunrise! Bringing with it another day and another opportunity to breathe, to live, to move forward with hope. Slowly and steadily, over time, hope won out.

In the morning, a chance to start fresh. A chance to make a change. A chance to move forward.