I love spring – it is hands-down my favorite season. Everything is fresh and new. The air smells like something living for the first time in months. The grass is greening, the buds are popping on the trees, and the breeze touches your skin with a warmth that hasn’t been felt all winter long. Spring puts a bounce in my step and a smile on my face because after 6 months of isolation and RSV lockdown, we are finally allowed to see people.
But, strangely, each spring also brings an insane level of anxiety into my life. My brain feels mushy – incapable of remembering anything on my to-do list. I’m cloudy. I have a short temper. I feel overwhelmed by things on our calendar that should be fun – but instead they are stressful.
It took me a couple of years to figure out why this was happening. But when I looked at the calendar one day and started counting down the days to when my mom died, I realized where the anxiety was coming from.
This is the day mom and I went to the Conservatory and she had to stop to rest every few feet.
This is the day my mom said “I can’t fight anymore.”
This is the day mom entered hospice care.
This is the day I last heard my mom’s voice.
This is the day…
The entire month of April is a countdown to a day that sent my heart exploding into a million pieces. This is the day my mom died.
And of all the people that we get to see while we’re out enjoying the spring renewal, she’s the person I want to see the most.
Spring is a time of life. But in our case, it’s also a time of death. I miss my mom. And it’s hard for me to find balance with that.