It’s been a hellish couple of months, with moments of joy sprinkled in to make it bearable. Work is overwhelming, chronic pain slowing me down further, my horse was injured for several weeks, kids and parents’ health see-sawing, my good friend and trainer now moving to another barn, the kids have had highs and lows in school and friendships, as they make their way through teen-age-dom.
And we have lost an inordinate number of people in the last two months. None directly related to me, but so close to my friend and neighbors–a sister, a best friend, two fathers, a 100-year old grandmother, a neighbor. Most were ill, but one went to sleep and simply didn’t wake up. Plans changed, vacations scrapped, hospice called in, then ordering of flowers, visitations, good-byes (and hellos, since we didn’t know some who died until their services).
I realize that death is a part of life, but it has walloped our neighborhood, our friends. Our kids are so acutely aware of death right now, it’s amazing they remain unafraid, happy. We talk to our friends, hold their hands, their hearts, listen to their stories, their heartache, their tears as they struggle to move onward.
I am waiting for the April rains to eventually sweep away the grey skies, the brown grass and awaken the tiny flowers, the birds, the deep breathes of calming air. Wash the sad times elsewhere, for awhile. C