These are the days of deceptively bright sunshine, and still-cold temperatures…
These are the days of daffodil shoots emerging slowly. Of frog and birdsong.
These are the days of family hikes, of a new puppy of the youngest among us learning responsibilities….
These are the days of realizing that my oldest will soon be the age I was when I had him. Was I ever really that young?
These are the days of celebrating life, of celebrating my grandmother’s 79 years.
These are also the days of missing my grandfather, still. Does one truly ever “get over” deep loss? I’m not sure. I do know the pain is less acute. Until I think of all this life he didn’t get to bear witness to. That part is difficult.
These are the days of holding tightly and letting go.