In our darkest hour…

Have you all ever sat in a dark room, wondering what went wrong. Wondering how did we get there. And wondering if this is the end. Well- for one, I have been there, several times. And each time feels like rock bottom until I hit a lower low.

Our diagnosis for food allergies was one such low. And each time we dealt with a reaction, it felt like a lower than low. And each time we were excluded, it felt like we had hit rock bottom.

While empathy should have been one of our prime instincts, we humans have our ways with manipulating it, and safe-guarding it for when we need it ourselves. In our last five years, specifically, I have seen the most wonderful friends exhibiting this trait.

But today’s post is not about them. Connecting the dots with my previous post, we as a family are trying to shed that excessive bulk of negativity around. Today’s post is about our darkest hour. About our long, dark tunnel. About being excluded and alienated.

Hope finds us in our darkest of hours, when we have given up all chances of finding it again. And sometimes, hope comes in many forms.

This post is about all the wonderful, unexpected hands that have held us when we needed them the most. About a brilliant set of parents, who have stood like a rock in the front. It is about all those people who have chosen to empathize with their open hearts. I have always felt grateful, especially in the past two years to have found such friends.

And in retrospect, it feels as though we were really not alone at the beginning of that long, dark tunnel. My wonderful parents, unconditionally, stood along with us, ensuring we do not lose our path in the darkness.

When I least expected it, we found some calling our names loud enough for us to hear it from our rock-bottom locations. And these friends have gone out of our way to keep us included. From having no idea about to deal with food allergies- to reading, questioning, educating and hosting allergy friendly events so that we have more reasons to smile. I am specifically touched with one, who ensured that after six years of this silence, my son cheered the loudest near a “safe-cake” at a birthday party. Did I mention- it was his first time in SIX years. To many it may not seem like a big deal, but to us, that smile will remain etched in our memories for a long time.

To all the people I am talking about- you know who you are. While I may not say it that often- You all have made this journey so much easier for us. And have restored our faith in empathy and acceptance. And did I mention our darkest hour- it now feels illuminated with all the warmth and love.