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Tuesday, May 1, 2012

Spring is arriving, but it doesn't seem real...

I went for a walk today, around the farm.  The wild dogwood is in bloom.  I think this one must have been ones my great-grandparents successfully transplanted on the property because there are no other dogwoods around us.



The lemon geraniums are starting to bloom.  I love the smell of them... I plant them all over and crush the leaves between my fingers as I wander around.


The pink flowering cherry, not good for much but looking at, but it is still beautiful to see.


The columbine that come back in my beds every year are starting to bloom. That means the deer will be wandering through tonight or tomorrow night to eat them.  It's like clockwork.


My great-grandma's lilac is blooming too.  The scent fills me full of emotions I can't even begin to describe.

Normally, this time of year I am full of joy as spring comes into bloom.  Now, I don't feel it.  I feel loss, sadness, an ache.  I miss my friend and I am hurting for her family.  I know life goes on, but right now it seems in limbo.  The animals still need cared for, dinner and chores still need done and the world still turns.  I didn't talk to Heather every day, sometimes we only touched base once a week or so by e-mail or a quick text.  I didn't realize how valuable that was to me until it was gone.  I saw her husband today, along with her sister and one of her daughters.  Seeing her sister and hearing her speak was like seeing Heather again, though like through a mist.  They don't look a lot alike, but the resemblance is there, enough to make me feel for a moment that everything was okay.  I hugged each of them, more than once.  I didn't cry, but the tears were there.  We talked briefly, and I know that we will talk more.   There are memories to be shared, more tears to cry and a way to figure out how we will all go on without her.  And we will, but it will take time, and energy and a strength that I don't have right now.  I will live my life right now as I live my sobriety, one day at a time. 

Maybe that's how we all should live life, right?  Prepare and plan for the future, but living for today and tomorrow.  If someone invites you to go to the beach, go... the laundry can wait!  That horseback or bike ride you keep putting off because you think you don't have the spare time... Please take that ride.  Sleep outside under the stars, just because you can.  Roast a marshmellow on a fire, skip rocks across a stream. Call your parents, your friends, the family you may not have spoken to in years and tell them you love them! It isn't too late right now, but it may be tomorrow. 

I know I'll get past this sorrow.  It is inevitable, as none of us could function in a world where we let our grief rule our lives.  Right now, though, I will take the time to grieve, without letting it destroy me.  I will look at Heather's pictures and read the beautiful things others are saying about their memories of her, knowing that I am not alone in my sadness.  I will say prayers to my Higher Power for peace for her family and her friends and I will go on, because that's what living life is about. 

On an upbeat note, a friend challenged us to do something in Heather's memorie that symbolized her unique personality.  I can crochet (barely) and I've often thought about knitting, but I'm scared of it. This upcoming a new fabric and yarn shop in town, "By My Hand" is offering free beginning knitting classes.  I signed up.  I posted it on facebook and so far 6 others, including my daughter Lyndsey, are joining me, in Heather's memory.  I think, that though my favorite colors are usually sage greens, browns and creams, I will select a brighter color, maybe one of the many colors of heather.  It's time to break out of my mold.

4 comments:

  1. So sorry your going through this, but you sure say it well. I don't remind myself enough to stop and show those who mean so much just how much I care and spend that precious time! Grief is an emotion I wish we didn't have to confront, but its inevitable. Your area is definitely trying to comfort you for all its springing forward. Beautiful photos!

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  2. A beautifully written post, Ruth. Hopefully, when we continue to live, we learn. Thanks for the important reminders.

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  3. I hope I can be as strong as you Ruth when the time comes but in the mean time I an taking life as they say( but still hate this saying"it is what it is"

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  4. The photos are pretty, I'm glad you are having some of your plants come into bloom during this sad time for you.

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