Another Day, Another Season

Perhaps it is coming home from what I call my Four Seasons week at my sister and brother-in-law's house, just south of Boston, that has caused me to think about the seasons of the year, or maybe it is that I flew home with the angels (as my sister would say) on my mother's birthday, just yesterday, or perhaps it is just the mere fact that here we are in her birthday month, Allison's that is...whatever the case may be, my heart is full with the seasons. Not necessarily the seasons of weather, but the seasons of life, death, grief, sadness, yet life, joy, happiness and hope.

Just this last week we experienced every type of weather imaginable, going from the beauty of a crisp, star filled sky over an incredible city skyline, arriving on a winter night, in time to meet the ferry boat across the ocean to my destination. Upon waking the next morning, I could hear the seagulls and felt I had arrived "home", their sound filling my soul with something I didn't even know was within, memories, and activities, happy times, beach days, and there was even a winter blue sky to accent the day, thus, bringing on the feel of summer. The sun was so warm on the front porch, as I soaked it up on the corner of the futon, and there I could sense the presence of a lifetime ago, the sounds from our past when the children would either fight or laugh, all now grown and finding their own paths, one gone from us in the physical sense, yet the aura of her spirit always hovering. We moved into high winds and spring like temperatures, causing us to abandon the winter scarves and coats, as the warm breezes ripped our packages from our arms and whirled sand all around us. And then came the March nor'easter, as it was called, the over one foot of snow that whirled and danced and went every direction and piled up, causing the gift of a snow day and all that entailed! We had the windows up, we had them down, we let the breeze in, we shut it out, all in one week's time!

Then it was time to go, and as all good things do, visiting time came to an end. I know full well now to really appreciate and savor the time, I don't look at it as being morbid, I just have that deep reality that life cannot be taken for granted. I also know I cannot laze around and eat sweets, ice-cream each night, move from spot to spot to get warm, or cooled off, that reality sets in and it is time to move forward again. Or at least move. And that is my comparison to grief. I see the four seasons come and go every day since the day I became a grieving mother. I live them each day, as I did this last week. I feel the pain of winter, not wanting to open the door, exposing myself, preferring to hide within, knowing that shutting out the world can be just fine, if only for a bit, while I sort out and face what is mine to handle. Then I feel the promise of spring, knowing the flowers are going to bloom, that March will come, and April and May and the beauty of color will fill my world, enough for me to peek out and embrace it. There is hope in the beauty of the tulip, the daffodil and all my favorite flowers. There is resurrection in the celebration of Easter, letting me know that in spite of how "stuck" I feel, I will have God's promise that all things work for good. He will lead me into a summer where activity can, and will, ease the pain, just for a moment, when that deep sun shines on my soul, and then will come the time where I can shed some of the pain, the tears, the anguish with the falling of the leaves. Then, with a roar, the loss will come surging back again, only to be dealt with and felt and I will, once again, allow the grief to teach me what is intended, for in this suffering, I am never to be the same again. Yes, the seasons touch me each and every day as I learn how to live this day, take a step, plan a party, attend an event, retreat a bit, lay down in darkness, or rise in hope. Weaving through them isn't easy, I would trade it if I could, but it is MY journey, intended for purposes beyond my own understanding, taking me places and to people I would never have known otherwise. Did God not know what He was doing when He created these seasons? In the dead of winter, I pray for spring, in the bloom of spring, I long for summer, and in the heat of summer, I wish for autumn...that's how I used to be, now, in the depths of grief, I am content where I am, in the here, in the now, in the present, for nothing past this moment is promised, this I know. I am where I am supposed to be.