Grief and Spring

I feel the excitement of new greens erupting from the barren soil, the sweet and tantalizing aroma of the citrus blossoms pouring into my every breath as I step into my unkempt garden, moonlight walks with my husband hand-in-hand embracing the last cool nights before the desert heat bakes us toward our indoor submission -- Spring. Spring: the awakening of our sleeping dormant earth, new life abundant, hopeful, and full of color. And then there's grief.

Cancer came in March. It came when I was deciding whether or not I should plant pumpkins or stick with my tried-and-true zucchini. Cancer came when I was changing diapers, dropping off at preschool, waiting to feel those first kicks of our 'surprise' baby, and enjoying that my oldest was finally in school full-time. Cancer came in Spring.

My sister called in March and told me to pray for Dad. Covid was new and was a far-off disease that only 'other people' far away have. His lungs were collapsing, the hospital wasn't prepared, we weren't prepared, the world was not ready. Covid came to our family in Spring.

In April I had my first surgery. In May I started chemo the day that my oldest son celebrated "Muffins for Mom" without me. In May I lost my hair. In May we learned we were having a boy and met with a high-risk pregnancy doctor. My pain was in Spring.

In April we waited for the phone call each day. Is he going to be okay? We waited for news. In April Dad was intubated and put into a coma. In April we spent hours talking to the phone the nurse placed next to his ear on the pillow, hoping and praying he could hear our encouragement. I played him the Beatles and chatted to the 'pillow phone' while I worked in the garden, while I cried, and while the kids played in the yard. He never responded. He never woke up. He died in May. My grief began in Spring.

The emotional waves of Spring are now filled with the juxtaposition of beauty and ashes, color and darkness, fear and joy, and everything that fills the gaps between. I sit in my sadness in Spring more than any other season and I eagerly anticipate the beauty of growth, change, color, and newness in Spring more than any other season. Life is a beautiful journey to feel so much in such a short amount of time.