Spring amid loss
I heard a rumour that spring was coming, and today I almost believe it. There is the promise of renewal, at least. This must be something we have mused on for millennia – at least in temperate climates: cold and dark followed by warmth and growth. Loss followed by birth.
In the past few months, three people have disappeared from my life; the latest this week. It's hard to rejoice in spring with loss colouring everything. How to be with the death of people on the one hand and the promise of renewed life on the other?
I feel there are no words to hold all of this. It seems so easy to lapse into phrases that seem overused, trite or lame. Yet something must be said – at least to each other. I suppose it is in the attempts that we say the most; the failure to capture holds the truth.
Spring will renew us, as it always has. Life will go on for those who still have it. New life will appear. Some will die in the midst of this. There are no answers, only questions. I guess the attempt is the thing.