The first blossoms of Spring Season’s colors have exploded, coaxed on by the sun and a few drops of rain out here in California.
Sunbeams earthward-bound brighten the dark winter season around parts of this globe— a light seen by many— but not all. Many have drawn last breaths, their seasons of life over. And for those that remain— sorrowful eyes view the natural order of life that reemerges— informing all of us — of what has been and what is.
Personal nightmares fail to recede as nighttime awakenings show an arm gently reaching across to feel and hold warmth, that is no longer there— as the light of gray dawn—slowly reveals a half-occupied bed.
The favorite foods, no longer bought. The special songs, once remembered and sung with smiles—now, only listened to with quivering lips and muted response. The places and events, defined by a time, an emotion— now mere footnotes, captured mental images, postcards or snapshots along the highways of life: the dates engrained in our brains: pre-and post—before and after.
How do we begin to search for answers—are there any answers—that will relieve and release us— taming our minds, lifting our spirits, and giving us ease of being, for what has befallen us?
Are memories a blessing or a curse—or both? And what remains that we dare not forget: the connections and intimacies, over a lifetime’s journey? Are the remembrances of those sacred rituals with someone enough to pull us through this new, untrodden path that we must all navigate, moving through the silent valleys and windswept hills— this new terrain of our bruised hearts. Can we seek direction from the compass of eternal love as we stumble along to an unknown destination. Is it enough?
And yet… the first blossoms have arrived again. They are on time for their brief visit on this good earth. For aren’t we all subject to the winds of fate— both gentle and blustery— that tell us our time will come and will go. And to accept— as petals do, the falling from stems and branches— that will birth fruit to ripen heavy and sweet on branches and vines.
Healing will come—faith is a verb.