An Ending and a Beginning

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We posted our news today of the closing of Hank’s Hope Inc.

Why? Lots of reasons.

Covid. It hit us hard, and we were unable to reach the community we had planned to.

Time. Single parent life isn’t conducive to working full time, keeping up with two busy kids, and preparing for uncertainties like school closings and child care arrangements and sickness. We are an all-volunteer organization (I always like to say we run on donations and love!) and our board members are in similar boats as I am.

Grief. This is the big one, and it’s personal for me.

When I organized the idea of Hank’s Hope in the spring of 2013, I was six months out from my loss. My c-section scar ached as much as my heart did. When I incorporated in 2015, I felt like I was piecing myself back together. I had a reason to say Hank’s name, every day. I had a reason to tell my story in hopes that it would reach those who had similar ones. I wanted to gather us together, and provide an opportunity for support and love.

That has been accomplished.

Hank would have been nine years old this past Saturday. We celebrated with cupcakes and candles. This year, like the past three birthdays, I had Elise and Alex to help me blow out the candles and make a wish. I always used to wish for him to be here again. But with him would mean no Elise or Alex.

My life has changed considerably since those early days. My family has grown, my heart has gotten full, and I’m looking ahead most days instead of wanting the what-ifs to come true.

In 2013 I wanted Hank’s Hope to replace my child, to give me something to nurture and grow and share. It has done that.

My grief looks different these days. When someone, fresh from loss, comes to me for help, my mind goes to telling them, “Look though! Look at all of us. I’m where you want to be, and you can get there.” No one wants to hear those words at that moment, they’re not supportive or helpful. But, that’s where my life is now, and it would be my authentic answer today.

I can’t wait for the Wave of Light next year, and am happy that Julia’s Light, an organization we’ve partnered with for the last few years, is taking charge. I will be there, helping to plan and organize. I’ll be there as Anne, not as Anne from Hank’s Hope.

October is a month where everything seems to end. The summer vacations, warm and sunny days, green leaves and grass. My grandparents both passed away during October, and so did Hank. It’s fitting that Hank’s Hope ends here too, as all of these closings are bittersweet. They’ve shaped and changed my life and the next step is to live that life, as best I can.

Saying goodbye isn’t the end of Hank. Saying goodbye means a new beginning. It’s a way for me to change the shape of my grief and how best to celebrate Hank, which was my wish when I blew out those 9th birthday candles.