The Seasons

I would never have thought how much the seasons could play into grief. Summer last year was a fog. But then fall came and I was sad. Sad that I could see physically how even nature was moving on. As fall eased into winter I began to feel more comfortable. Finally I felt like Mother Nature was agreeing with me. I have felt so numb and cold and empty since Caleb died that it was nice to look out the window and see a reflection of that in the world. The trees were bare, the ground was frozen and the wind was cold. It gave me permission to stay inside and grieve. Like nature was telling me, its okay, you don't have to pretend to be happy and want to be outside among the living.

And now, here we are on the brink of Spring again. And the emotions are flooding back to me. So many flashbacks of last years Spring. They are divided into two parts- before and after his death. Before when it was just warming up and I was imagining all the long stroller walks I would take once he was here. Before when I wore flip flops each day because I was too big to bend over and put shoes on. Before when I wore the maternity capri pants  and went to garage sales and relished in the fact that I was now able to shop for a baby, my sweet baby boy! Then there is the after. The one where I hear the birds chirping and I want to throw rocks at them. The one where I walk out our front door and smell the flowers and see new trees in bloom and want to throw up. The one where I see the sun shining and I want to cover it up. The one where I craved darkness.

All day yesterday the sun was shining and I was mad. Mad because two new families in our church have just lost their babies in the past few days. And the sun is still shining. I felt that same rage and anger that I had last year when I saw the sun shinning all Spring and into Summer. All I wanted to do was pull the shades down over the sun, not so much for my sake right now, but for the families. I wonder if they will feel as betrayed by the seasons as I did last Spring. Spring, all about new life. But what do you do if you are in the middle of death and every ounce of new life feels like a lie? A reminder that even the trees are able to sustain life and somehow you could not?

Don't really know where to end this post, but just sharing my experience of the seasons in regards to grief. It will be interesting to be doing round 2 of the seasons without Caleb coming up in April. Another Spring, but maybe not as painful as the last one.