In the aftermath of losing a loved one to suicide or overdose, the weight of our grief can feel unbearable. We may long for hope and reassurance that healing can occur even as we doubt that such a future exists.  Indeed, hope isn’t a feeling we can conjure or grasp hold of.. Nor can we flip a switch to turn it on in order to light the darkness of our grief. Hope, instead, is an outlook or view that begins to take shape over time, as we tend to our pain and give ourselves permission to heal.

The early days, months and even years after a sudden, traumatic loss are often filled with simple survival – just getting through one minute, hour or day at a time. In such moments, the idea of hope may feel distant or even offensive. And that is okay. As we often say in our support groups, there is no timeline for healing and no right way to grieve. As we learn to care for ourselves, even in small ways – resting, seeking support, mourning, telling our story – we create the conditions where hope can begin to take root. The transformation from feeling hopeless to believing that hope may be possible, is a slow unfolding that comes as we pursue the work of grieving as honestly and fully as possible.

For some of us, the idea that we could feel hopeful after our loss feels wrong – as if finding happiness again implies we are forgetting our person or leaving them behind. Grief, however, isn’t something we get over. It becomes a part of us, shaping how we remember, how we grow and how we live. Choosing to smile again or to look toward the future is not a betrayal of the person you lost. It is an act of honoring the life and legacy of your loved one.

Hope is not an emotion or a cognitive state. Think of it as more of an inclination or perspective that can manifest itself as something as ordinary as getting out of bed in the morning. Sometimes hope is found in the softening of a memory that once only caused pain. Even though these moments are quiet, almost unnoticeable, they are signs that something within us is shifting. By showing up for ourselves with compassion, seeking support and allowing our grief to move at its own pace, we are creating space for hope to enter.

You needn’t, and probably can’t, force hope. You don’t even have to believe that it is coming. You only need to let yourself be where you are without expectation. In doing so, you are doing the hardest work of all. And somewhere along the way, hope will quietly begin to grow within you.