When There's No Hope

      When There’s No Hope

There’s nothing worse than the feeling that you have nothing to look forward to. The possibility that you can generate a spark that could turn out to be a light at the end of the tunnel is nonexistent. Approaching dark clouds turn day into night. Thunder roars so loud it threats to shake the bones free from your body.  Lightening flashes all about. You want to hide to avoid your skin being seared. The best you can hang onto is if you ride out the storm, you can look forward to a flood of destruction. There’s nothing you can do about your future. Give up.

There you shiver in a fog of doom and gloom, holding wet matches. How can such a hopeless situation be turned around? Answer: by a family member or close friend. They’re the only ones who know you well enough to know you need a candle in the window of a stormy night. The helper has a deep insight into the depressed person and knows what really matters to them. Also, they’re the only ones who most likely will spend the time that is needed to pull you through to normality.

In my novel, Baggage burdens. Jill, the protagonist, is found asleep on her bed, a bottle of pills half gone. Jill’s niece, Julie, knows Jill has just learned that her husband is divorcing Jill. Suicide, thinks Julie. She struggles to try to wake Jill. Then she says the one thing she suspects will jar Jill to consciousness––Josey. The name acts like an electric shock. Jill snaps back to reality. To Jill, Josey, her grandmother, is the only one who still holds a high opinion of Jill. The possibility of breaking that perception is like an attack on the last strand of decency that Jill holds on to. Julie’s successful desperation act strains her relationship with Jill, but that’s what family does for each other.

Jill doesn’t like the fact that her relationship with her eldest son is unredeemable, but she knows there’s nothing she can do about it. Live with it, she concludes. Bill, a close friend, through his words of advice, prayers and offer to be by her side, holds out a candle of hope. Reconciliation with her son is possible. However, before he can be of assistance the sincerity of his friendship is tested. Being the helper of one who struggles with hope is not easy.

Julie and Jill

Julie stops and glances back to make sure the bedroom door is closed and the children aren’t near. Pointing to the bottle she asks, “Jill, were you trying to end your life?” Julie can’t bring herself to say suicide, not to the aunt she loves and admires.

Tears flow from Jill. Her slow weak no fails to convince Julie. “Jill, you’ve got to get up, show some energy.”

Jill shakes her head slowly, making no attempt to control her body. She sinks heavily in Julie’s arms.

Jill’s reaction heightens Julie’s fear. ‘I’ve got to snap her out of it.’ Only one desperate idea arises. It’s a response that means breaking a promise.

“Jill, do I have to call Gramma Josey for help?”

As if taking a whiff of smelling salts, Jill sits straight up. “What?”

Julie says. “You never heard that.”

Sparked by fear that her grandmother might find out how badly Jill has failed, Jill swings her feet to the floor and looks directly at Julie. In a demanding tone she fires, “What does Gramma Josey know about me?”

Bill and Jill

“I had a chance to talk with Eve,” says Bill. “She said she’s happy that you phone her weekly.”

“I like her. She’s easy to talk to.”

“Interesting. She told me you’ve only been over to their place once since you came out of the hospital. She thinks it has something to do with an unresolved issue with Daniel. The fact that you hardly talked to Daniel worries her. Is there a problem?”

Jill’s first reaction is to get up and walk away, to not answer Bill’s question. His grip on her hands prevents her from leaving. She suspects that he’s deliberately holding her so she will not escape. The gentleness with which he holds her hand suggests permission to leave, permission to avoid dealing with his probing.

Guessing that Bill wants to help her, Jill chooses her words carefully. “I think he blames me for the divorce.” She looks down.

“So this is a short term problem, a recent development?”

Bill’s question makes Jill think Bill knows more about her strained relationship with her son. She looks up and finds him studying her closely. She reminds herself if she isn’t completely truthful, he will see it in her eyes. He always does.

“No. We’ve never been really close.”

“And you’re comfortable with this?”

“No. Of course not. But there’s nothing I can do about it.”

“And if there is, would you be willing to try?”

“Yes.”

Jill’s quick, firm response convinces Bill she is sincere.

“I might have an idea.” He pauses; afraid to touch what he understands is a festering sore.

“Well?”

Bill looks at Jill’s serious face. “You know in the Bible we’re instructed to confess our sins.” He paraphrases the first and third verses in Psalm 32. “The person who confesses their sins is blessed. The weight of the past mistakes doesn’t become an unbearable burden.”

 “I should ask Daniel for forgiveness?

“To start the healing process, yes.”

haiku capsule:                 

unheard cry for help

I give up; no use trying

loving friend needed

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