Hold on to what is good,
even if it’s a handful of earth.
Hold on to what you believe,
even if it’s a tree that stands by itself.
Hold on to what you must do,
even if it’s a long way from here.
Hold on to your life,
even if it’s easier to let go.
Hold on to my hand,
even if I’ve gone away from you.
–A Pueblo Indian Prayer
When we are within the aftermath of death’s darkness, sometimes all we can do is hold on. It might mean literally holding on to something, something tangible, something concrete. It might mean holding on to a memory, an idea, some profound shared moment you had in the past. It might mean holding on to a friend, a confidant, a fellow traveler through the dark. It might mean holding onto God.
It is different for each of us; however, what we share in these moments is the need to just hold on. When the existential night falls, you will feel like you have lost everything. You haven’t.
There’s still something there. There is always, at the very least, one thing to which you can hold onto. Find it. It is out there, or in there, or up there. Hold on to it. Hold on until the morning. The dark night will not last forever. So, for now, just hold on.
Carry The Fire,
Rabbi Baruch HaLevi lost his grandmother to suicide as a teenager and eighteen years later, his father too. As an author, grief guide, and motivational speaker, he is devoted to building spiritual bridges among all people.