The year of grief ripples on. Winter extends itself to the doorstep of spring, keeping me tucked inside.
The spikes of sorrow have softened, yet unlooked-for signs and reminders throw themselves down in my path, returning my eyes to damp.
Another relation, newly diagnosed, and a friend who lost his long battle not 48 hours ago hold the return to joy firmly at bay.
That is perhaps the cruelest subtlety of grief~ the doubt and illusion it imparts that joy will never be found and felt again, that air and color will forever remain subdued.
The birds of spring are returning, but not yet for me. The healing crows are still standing guard.
oh graciel. i am so sorry. i know. it seems never ending. it is an illusion, though i think i didn't really believe that until this moment; in the typing of these words i knew the truth. healing will come. there is no clock.
ReplyDeletexoxox
It does feel like the never ending winter, a trap that is holding all the emotions that winter held.
ReplyDeleteAnd yet the light is different. I can see spring there, even though there is still snow on the ground. That light is hope.
I'm so sorry to hear that more sad news has come your way. xoxo
I pray to Spring will shine on you once again, in the meantime heal and love yourself most fully.
ReplyDelete