We are Now in Purim-Hope of Transformation

It is late February, and we are in the Jewish holiday called Purim. I can only say that you can read about it in a short 7 chapter book called Esther, in the Bible. Yesterday, I was at the graveside again. I took a small pink annual flower, and left it on the grave. The workers are laying out more graves, and managing the lawn. There  is always a furry of activities. This Sunday, there is going to be a pot luck again ( I like the term Pot Bless better), where all the families who lived through loosing a person to suicide meet, and enjoy a meal together. My feelings concur with others, in that you have a distate in your  mouth, and would prefer not to go, but once you have been there, you have a good feel about it. We are all still very vulnerable people even after a few years since this event occurred, loosing Deborah. The Patullo Bridge still looms in the horizon above the Fraser River. In a few short months the bridge will be closed to traffic except for two lanes. Can you believe they are actually going to refurbish this piece of junk?  We will always be traumatized and social outcasts, as the stigma carries us to our graves. Self murder does not make sense, especially to the family left behind. No matter how much Deborah hurt, and wanted to be free of her pain, she obviously had no idea of how much we will hurt for the rest of our lives. Her pain is gone, and our pain is now, forever. We cannot make sense of it. I cannot relate to anyone, no not anyone. Some say, because I have kept busy, with my blog and support groups, I am much further ahead towards my recovery.. However, there is no recovery. It is a daily bleeding wound. Everything I do, or think about is secondary to what happened with our loss of Deborah. Her photos are everywhere, I was told to put them away.. Could you? Could one wipe away the life of a 19 year old, as if she was never here?
I've been thinking of my purpose more and more lately.. It is dismal to say the least.. All of life is vanity. What we value, is quickly wiped clean, and we are to pull up our pants and move on. What has value? Surely nothing as everything is in motion, transcendent. When the carpet is pulled out from beneath you, one falls. Any ray of sunshine is gone. How can one say we are better off or even what road we are on? There is no plumbline or measuring stick. There is no measurement on our recovery, as there is no recovery. There is only the hope of transformation.