It is a strange activity to bind yourself to Hope. It is a savior, but only a temporary one. There is no greater belief than that in the last available option. But the best case scenario rarely happens; and that last ditch effort can’t always bridge the gap to safety. What is there to do when the treatment doesn’t work? When the money runs out? When you can’t work it out with each other? In many ways, Hope is the first stage of grief. It is, ultimately, a denial... and I struggle to find the balance between clinging to it for the sake of miracles and improbable luck and effort beyond capabilities and moving forward to accept the outcome as final. Where does Hope become a hindrance to growth? Where does it cease to be a supernatural existence and become an obstruction of reality?