Spring

As the advent of spring is upon us, I find so many analogies to life - mine at least anyway.  It's time for renewal.  The earth reawakens, budding back to life, and soon will be flowering, growing and thriving.  Dependent clearly upon Mother Nature, but the circle of life will continue.

Back to an idea from an earlier post, was sharing that the second year after losing Adam and Dave would be harder than the first.  Who could imagine?  Impossible!  I'll never forget watching my beloved take his last breath in the hospital.  And I will always remember the phone call telling me my son had died.  The first of those occurrences was painful, but it was more like a heavy, heavy wintertime snow, coming down so very quietly and stopping all activity.  The world truly stood still for me the day I lost my husband and my learning to cope alone began.  It was like after the blizzard has stopped, and there is no electricity and you have to fend for yourself in totally different ways, for the power was off.  I felt as if I lost all my power when I lost my mate.  I had to find a new way to cope and nothing was as easy as it was when the power was on.

Ironically, the day my son died, there was a blizzard.  But I felt more as if I were in the middle of a tornado and that all around me "my" village had been hit and lives disrupted.  It was chaos, it was out of the blue, had not been predicted and it left a tragic wake in it's path.  More people than me had to try to find the scattered pieces that had been their lives and begin to rebuild.  It all happened so quickly it was hard to fathom.

We all know that there is a lot to learn from Mother Nature, but in this high tech world we live in, we often don't get out of the electronic glow enough to replace it with sunlight or moonlight and explore what beauty and destruction surrounds us.  Too often we'd rather tune in to the local news, podcast, website or YouTube to get our news.

The second year for me is harder because I ceased to exist the first year.  My body showed up and I could have dinner with you and talk and laugh with you.  Sometimes I'd even cry.  But the shock had not worn off.  I was coping with my own PTSD I think.  I've spent a year trying to dig out, put my surroundings back in order and had no time to think past the pain in my daughter-in-law's and grandchildren's eyes, Chad's and Troy's eyes, along with sons, brothers, aunts, uncles, cousins and friends.  I wanted to comfort them, to reassure them, be of some help to them.  And in doing that I could avoid tending to my own garden.

This year, the devastation remains with us, but we are learning to cope and move on.  And God bless those who are able to.  God designed the seasons for a purpose and living in Indiana, I should understand the lessons and the message there better than most.  The weather can change on a dime and it can either bring a sunset that takes your breath away, or it can wreak such havoc that it takes someone else's breath permanently away.

I have put my life almost on hold for a year, trying to find my bearings.  I was thrown clear out of the village, although my people have come for me and assured me of where I belong and why I belong.  I now look out and see that it's time to clear my flower beds, for new life is beginning to surface amidst the dead cuttings that should have been removed long ago.  I have to clear what died from last year to allow the new coming this year their right to flower beautifully in the sun without being choked out.  It is not work I relish, and it will likely be painful as I have allowed myself to become stiff and move as if I am 80 rather than almost 60.  But it needs to be done.  And then when I pull into my drive, there will be one less reminder of what no longer is.  I will be excited to see what is coming up in my flower bed and looking forward to new blooms of some different colors, rather than depressed to see what I have let go, and the work I have not been brave or fit enough to do.

Change is never easy.  We mostly resist it at all costs.  But to get stuck without change is a sin against nature.  We have four seasons that bring wonder and beauty every three months or so.  Our lives have more seasons than four, and if we have paid attention, we know that each season brings something new to look forward to, even though we may be leaving something behind that we loved equally well.

Getting used to that idea is painful.  I don't want to leave Dave or Adam behind.  But I need to understand that I don't have to.  I just need to learn new ways to take them with me.  I need to learn that I will continue to find joy in the center of my family, with Chad and his family, Jessica and her family, my sisters and all of those wonderful people in my village.  I need to learn that I don't want to be "that house on the block".  This year will be about cleaning up my landscape and planting the most beautiful perennials one can find, that will come back year after year and be something I can depend on.  A reminder that life goes on although sometimes we need to weed out what no longer flourishes and plant something equally beautiful in it's place.  It's time to put down the electronics, and get out and feel the sun on my face and recognize that there is so much more to do.

It's almost as if I saw myself in a planter with Dave and Adam, and because as they died, I no longer tended to myself, the last living thing in the pot.  No more fertilizer, (never needed it before because the other two always provided so much of their own if you know what I mean!)  Not nearly enough water or sunlight so I've become pretty droopy.  I think it's time to be transplanted into a beautiful bowl alone, where roots will take hold and I can begin to grow again.  I can't afford to waste more time and pass the point of no return.  It's time to embrace what has been given, by God, by Mother Nature and by the villagers.  It's time to spring into action.  And with the right landscaping, maybe the road out of my village will no longer look so long, so dark and so scary.  It's time to transform this road with something coming at me

into this one, that makes you want to follow it to see what adventure lies ahead.

And more than anything, I hope you'll come along with me.

“As the season changes, we learn to adapt.” 
― Lailah Gifty Akita, Pearls of Wisdom: Great mind