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Wednesday, April 29, 2015

Spring fever


I cannot tell you how many times each week I have the thought, I need to call my mother. Outside my window, the trees are putting out buds. All over the city, puffs of cotton candy pink blossoms strut along branches, wanton against blue. Spring is here again, my first without my mother.

This will be a year of firsts.




7 comments:

  1. I am so chronically sleep deprived that I rarely dream, which perhaps made all the more vivid the
    dream I experienced a few months after my beloved father died: the phone rang, and there he was. Clear and real. I'm shaken with grief just writing this, even though many years have passed.

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  2. I think you will find yourself sighing a lot during the first year. It is so hard.

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  3. I know that feeling. My sister died in November, and I still keeping picking up the phone to call her, and then I remember that she's gone.

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  4. Yes. That feeling that the lost beloved is out there somewhere almost within reach but not quite. Sometimes I'm sure that I can reach him if I just try a little harder, think of something I haven't yet thought of. Sending love. Let there be joyful firsts too.

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  5. And everything you wrote is captured in the stillness of that photo which is at once achingly intimate and terribly silent and still.

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  6. This first year is so very hard and the tears will come at unexpected times. We are here with you.

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