“ So it’s true, when all is said and done, grief is the price we pay for love.” – E.A. Bucchianeri, Brushstrokes of a Gadfly
It’s the last day of winter and it feels like I might never write again even though spring has gently stepped onto the stage. The magnolia trees marching up the street to my Mom’s apartment building have silently blossomed into delicate shades of pink announcing warmer days to come.
I find myself these days making my way through hospital corridors to stand by the bedside of my father and just recently, my mother’s as she lay waiting in Emergency for the results of a test revealing a possible complication from an injury she suffered almost a year ago. Dad has had over a year and a half of struggling with various health challenges culminating in surgery. My world has become smaller, days now taken up with visits to the hospital, attending to the ebb and flow of emails and the numerous calls from the many professionals caring for him – finding time to write is rare at the moment but when I do I am comforted by the words flowing from my pen.
In the rising and falling of my breath and life itself, I try to collect odd moments to gather my thoughts, pray, and appreciate the new road I’m on. A warm shower, a beloved book and a cup of tea are constant companions. Overlaying the uncertainty, spring lets me know it’s unfolding around me no matter what and not to be missed!
And to my great joy, here I am, drinking a soothing hot chocolate, smooth jazz polishing the rough edges I woke up with as I write down the words moving through me at my favourite nook, Veranda Café. Minutes ago, I was lost in dusting, decluttering and organizing my space, tasks to ground my restless spirit. Outside my open window I could hear a blackbird beeping in vibrato making me laugh as my green cloth did its work.
This rising and falling is part of life – I have to make sure I get enough sleep, create space between visits to the hospital for a fragrant chai tea with my Mom, sit on our hill in the sun after a long walk through the park and revel in the wild beauty crouching at the edge of worry ready to catch me if I fall.