The daffodils popped up weeks ago, promising the end of an unbearably long winter. But it seems to me, Spring is a bit bipolar. She gifts us with warmth and sunshine one day and freezes us out the next. Yesterday, we had tornadoes pop up out of nowhere, forcing us to shelter in place in the middle of HomeGoods. Last weekend, we went to the beach for the afternoon. Who knows? Tomorrow it may snow. Every time I think I can put the winter gear away and pull out the flip-flops, she changes her mind again, as if to say, “April fools!”
Grief can be the same. You get to a point where you begin to function again. You can get through a day without a complete meltdown. You just begin to see a glimpse of light at the end of the tunnel. You even catch yourself in a moment of happiness. Then, bam! Tornado sirens in the middle of HomeGoods. The dam bursts, and you never saw it coming. Suddenly, it’s winter all over again, but your boots are already stored away for next winter.
Unlike linear seasons, the seasons of grief are unpredictable and come and go at will. No warning. No predictability. When you dress for sunshine, it rains. When you carry your umbrella, you find yourself in a blizzard. And the days you expect a hailstorm, sometimes, just sometimes, may surprise you with sunshine and rainbows and sunsets and starlit skies. Grief is always there, hanging about in the shadows, but there are moments when she’s content to stay there and allow you to take in the beauty of Spring.
I’ve come to appreciate those moments. The springtime moments, when hope is restored and you can see the silver lining. They may not happen often — just yet. But they will. I know this, because I’ve been through an unbearably long winter before and I know Spring fights her way through. Spring, all the while winter threatens to subdue her, steadily plods on, pushing through the bitter cold until the sunshine overcomes and warms your soul.
She may be tarrying longer than you’d like, but take heart, grieving friend.
Spring is coming.
TPW 4/2022