Coming to terms with the painting by Frank Bramley, “A Hopeless Dawn” was a challenge for me. My parents saw the painting in the Tate Mueseum after my brother died. They ordered a large print of it. They kept it on display in their living room for over 25 years. When one entered their home, “A Hopeless Dawn” immediately drew one’s eye.
I understood their unwavering bond with this painting; their unsalvageable grief after my brother died.
It took me a long time to come to terms with my grief and their inability to grieve. My parents were stuck in their pain until they got sober. They had to get sober and stop numbing their pain. Only then, could they begin to grieve. And, begin their recovery process. And, then, and only then, could they start to hope of feeling simple joy again.
Last week, was the 50th anniversary of my brother’s death. My brother’s widow, my niece and her family all gathered at my brother’s grave. There were a few tears, but overall we were grateful. We laughed and told delightful stories of his essence and his joy. It was beautiful. I wrote a note about it here.
I understand that the painting “A Hopeless Dawn” resonates with many. Death and Loss is painful. Grief is a process. It is not hopeless.
I also understand that the process of grief and loss is essential for healing. That is the reason we indicated every major section break in Paperdolls & Cowboy Boots1 with the stages of grief and loss.
The process of grief and loss is essential for healing.

I promise you hope, there is never a “hopeless dawn.”2
In the epilogue of Paperdolls & Cowboy Boots, I tell the story of the interview Warner Brothers Studios conducted with Elizabeth Smart and I. During the filming, Elizabeth asked me a question about healing and pain, I recited Aeschylus:
"...even in our sleep pain that cannot forget falls drop by drop upon the heart, and in our own despair, against our will, comes wisdom to us by the awful grace of God."
I promise you there is hope and wisdom.
If I can do it, so can you. You can create your own, uniquely beautiful life filled with hope, joy, and yes, wisdom.
After my mother moved in with me, I simply could not display this elegantly framed print. Shortly after her death, I donated it to charity.