I believe that we are strongest in the places where we have been most deeply wounded. But then another child loses his father to suicide, and I crumble to pieces. My heart breaks all over again.

I know that there is hope. In my heart, I have faith that there will be love and light and laughter. I trust in the power of prayer and of Love. I believe that Life does not abandon its children, but in this moment Life has again abandoned a young boy. The darkness is thick and hard and cold.

All I can offer is my own broken heart, which stretches a little wider.

It’s not nearly enough.

At the absolute darkest, when light and hope were truly dead and gone, I do not know how Mary held on to her faith. Maybe she didn’t. Maybe there was just nothing else to do but sit and inhale. I wonder who sat with her in the darkness. I wonder how many heavy hearts reached toward hers, beating awkwardly, steadily toward a new day.

I sit and inhale.

My heart breaks and beats.