There’s a certain grief that comes up with the end of the school year.
These bittersweet bookends that are reminiscent of what the season held and what was lost.
Some of my children reaching milestones I’ll never witness again, and others who will never reach them at all.
It’s another reminder of how intricately woven the grief and joy are.
I’ll never escape it.
These reminders of all that was lost when my babies died. I’ll never get to see them complete grades, or go to summer camp, or scream and giggle in the pool with their siblings.
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how the changing of seasons coincides with these grief waves.
It ebbs and flows.
When the weather warms,
and school doors close.
And it’s this gentle kiss with summer’s breath,
‘hey I’m still here, remember me?’
It never fully goes away. We live with it through every turn of the calendar page.
If we only learn how to embrace it. Grief is not our enemy, it’s a dear friend, and a precious reminder,
that we are indeed
human.