The days are getting shorter. The nights colder again.
You left and after a while, winter turned to spring, spring to summer, and now fall is coming and will be followed by winter again.
The grass was brown and sparse when we buried you, and shortly after your grave was blanketed with snow. The roads in the cemetery were icy and once I actually wasn't able to make it up the hill to your spot without going a different way. It was usually dark when I would go by in the morning, and always when I went after work.
Then the snow melted and grass started to appear; it was a little warmer. It wasn't quite as dark in the evening. School ended and with Michael's graduation, so did our public school journey. Snoasis to the south of the cemetery opened and I watched very carefully as I would leave at night because there were kids and families out enjoying the sunshine and treats. Sometimes in their exuberance and fun, they didn't notice a car leaving down the road that not many travel.
Now school has started again, Snoasis is closed, and the days are shorter and nights colder. This morning the heat actually kicked on (I turned it off immediately). I wonder how long the hummingbirds will stick around. It's not as bright when I go see you, although it's not quite dark yet.
And I'm finding it's hard to come home from work. It's not as hard as it was in January, but things have changed, again. Michael left a week ago. I do get to talk to him still, and he responds. I mean, I guess I talk to you all the time, but I can't hear your voice, and I can't see you. I'm finding I'm not much in favor of these new normals I'm having to adjust to. It's not fun. I miss him. I miss you.
And honestly, I'm getting tired of people thinking I should be rejoicing in my "new freedom." So far I've kept my filters in place, but it might not be pretty when they get worn out. Daddy has started watching as some people come near and will gently steer me away. I'm grateful for that.
Somehow the world keeps turning, and I guess I am learning to live without you. I can now go out on the back patio without worrying that I didn't ask someone to listen for you. But I still can't work in the garage much, or spend too much time downstairs without getting antsy. I suppose that will come too, but it's not here yet.
And I find that since Michael left, I'm having a hard time getting out of bed in the morning again.
It feels lonely with the ghosts and echoes of "before." I don't know what I expected, but it wasn't this.
I love you so much,
Mama
“Spring sang softly as Winter died. I’ll bloom for you; while my heart still cries.”
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