I should write a book every February. Sitting in TOW-Wanda for the entire month made the time fly by. I try to like winter. I try to have a happier outlook. And, it’s not even like we had a bad winter. It’s just not green. I like green. It’s not warm. I like warm.

I think maybe this winter was easier too because I took a cue from Mother Nature. God puts all the trees and flowers and grasses to sleep in the winter. He gives them a break. It’s a time to rest and regroup. I like that. I tried not to make it too slug-like and just sit for weeks on end doing nothing. I tried to keep busy with things. I didn’t keep my body as busy as I should have. But I sure kept my mind occupied. And that helped the time go by.

I have a love/hate relationship with March. I love that spring is just around the corner. I love seeing the buds and shoots on the trees. I love the bird songs I hear through the cracked window every morning. Each week brings new calls and I try to remember which bird is migrating through. I love when the grass starts to turn green and the peepers start their shrill chorus beyond the creek. We’ll have new fawns before long…little spotty babies hiding in the tall grasses while their mamas feed nearby. 

I hate March because it’s the month Mr. Virgo died. I remember every day leading up to March 12th…as if it were yesterday. Just like we remember where we were when Kennedy was shot or Princess Diana died or the Twin Towers fell. We remember. Widows remember. Mothers remember. It’s imprinted in our brains forever. We remember what it looked like that day…the weather, the temperature, where we were, what we were doing, what we wore. We remember the moments leading up to the end. And we remember the end. That’s when things start getting fuzzy. That’s when the slide show starts. A picture here. An image there. A feeling.

All it takes is a sound. A smell. The way the sun glints through the window. And you’re there. It’s not bad like it once was. Early on it was brutal. It was too real…too soon…too fresh. Time has smoothed grief like a rushing river smooths the stones in a river bed.  Many years ago, I walked Glenwood Canyon for exercise. During the peak of the spring runoff, you could stand on the bike path at the dam above Shoshone Power Station and hear…feel huge boulders being pushed along by the force of the water. You can’t see them, but you know they’re there. You sense the disturbance under the water. That’s how grief is now. I sense the disturbance below the surface, but if you look at me, you probably won’t notice anything different.

There is a scale…like the ones Lady Justice holds in her hand. The March of Spring vs. The March of Grief. The grief side used to be the heaviest and kept me way off balance. Now it’s even. It’s softer…out of focus…but I will always feel that undercurrent of the boulders hitting my soul. ❤️

“He heals the brokenhearted and bandages their wounds.”

Psalms 147:3 NLT