Trying not to lose Hope

"You wear this all the time, don't you?" the jeweller said.

"Yep, every day. It is not worth a lot in terms of dollars, but it is very sentimental."

Just recently, for about the fourth time in four years, my Hope necklace broke. The kids, especially the smaller one, are always pulling at it and while I know I probably should give it a rest from time to time, I can't bear to take it off. I have been so lucky that every time it has broken, I have felt it slip down around my neck and caught it before it was lost on the path of life somewhere forever.

If there has been one constant in my life the past four years, it has been that necklace. My sister ordered it for me just after Hope died, to replace what now seems like the pointless and stupid Sally necklace I used to wear, which in hindsight I wish I'd buried with my girl. She had it specially made, and when the jeweller heard the story behind the necklace, he gave it to her free of charge. I'll never forget those random acts of kindness that came our way in those early months, and all the months that followed (though I must admit, there was more of them, way back when). People can be surprising in both good and bad ways, and we struck gold so many times, pun intended.

The necklace has cost me about thirty bucks to have soldered back together each time, and I see it as a small price to pay to keep that tiny piece of gold that spells out her name, together with my motto for living, hanging around my neck. The jeweller said I should only wear it on special occasions because parts of the chain are becoming very weak and it might be an expensive habit to maintain, but every day that I have worn it has been a special occasion, marking a day I get to carry on living while she does not. I put my hand to my neck countless times a day to make sure it is there, as I feel like if I did lose it, I would really be losing a piece of her, and I know after the debacle that was Simon losing (then finding) his wedding ring that possessions really count for squat, but I really do want to keep this forever. It is hard to hang on to memories these days, so wearing that necklace is something special for me to do that makes her feel close. As a bereaved parent, these are the tiny, daily acts we carry out. Because there is nothing else for us . Wear necklaces, get tattoos, write names in sand, sell fairy tale prints - no cuddles, no kisses, no bums to wipe. Just the desperate clutching to memories, which none of us have enough of.

I have probably taken the necklace off about five times since I got it, not including the times I take it off to play sport. Most of those occasions have been to attend weddings or other formal events where I have chosen a dressier piece of jewellery to match whatever it is I am wearing. When wearing the Hope necklace, I love that it puts her out there for whoever I am talking to, to be reminded that she was real, that she is missed and that I carry her memory with me every where I go. So I find it strange and ironic, if not a little vain, that I have been brave enough to remove it on the few occasions I have, because they are normally the times I am speaking to people I might not have seen in a long time, and they are often the ones I want to scream HOPE HOPE HOPE at until I am blue in the face, they are blue in the face, or which ever comes first.

And Hope, it would seem, is a huge theme across the globe at the moment. Just as I did during the Olympics this year, I can't help but look back to this time four years ago to when America went to the polls. I remember that day, and I remember it pretty well. Of course I was in the thick of the intense, early grief fog, but I also sat glued to my TV to watch the results unfold. Obama obviously based a lot of his campaign on Hope and that both stung and comforted me at the same time. Newspaper headlines around the world all featured the word, he had posters made and a good friend even bought one for me (another one of those random acts of kindness, and I really must get it framed and hung). It sort of felt like all was almost right in the world when Obama was first elected, apart from that one god damn thing - that huge, obvious, painful thing. And this year, I can only live in Hope that America gets the result right again, at least in my eyes, as that's the way I lean. And don't hate me for that, as this will probably be the first and last time I'll get all political on you here. It is just hard not to look at this election, look at the last one and think about where I was and how far I have come.

(image courtesy of Suz at Segovia www.instagram/suz_at_segovia 

Time is moving on, memories are fading. Some days it feels like I am losing her all over again, broken or almost broken necklaces and global politics aside, but no matter what I do, I'm always trying not to lose Hope.