In ten years I pray I remember how I rediscovered hope. I pray that I do not remember the weeks I spent screaming at God for everyone that left, for everything I lost.

I pray that I don’t remember the night I drove around for hours on end, tears streaming down my face, no place to go, sad songs tuned in so quiet I could hear the owls over the somber sounds that the stereo projected. I pray that I remember the late night drives where I was alone and the windows were down and my favorite songs blared through my cheap speakers, the bass vibrating and cracking, the summer breeze pouring in through the windows.

I pray I remember that summer, the summer that I discovered that I did not lose everything that past autumn. I pray I remember for the rest of my life the moment I felt hope for the first time after a loss that left a gaping hole in my heart, and I pray everyone else who feels that loss of hope finds it one day as well.