a change of seasons

it seems somehow both sorrowful and fitting to attend a funeral here in the liminal space of almost-spring. spring is only just starting to happen, but there is still evidence everywhere of last season. spring hangs in the liminal space between, waiting to fully burst forth, but being chased back by winds that are still a bit too cold and the rattle of last year's dried leaves.

it seems especially sad to die right on the verge of spring, to not see the lambs frolic in the green fields, to not see the magnolia unfold its delicate blooms, to only have seen the earliest snowdrops and bluebells, but to miss out on the tulips and the daffodils. but seasons come and seasons go and life has its seasons as well.

so to leave the here and now at this time and go to whatever might be next is perhaps fitting. the beautiful flowers of yesteryear making way for the new, fresh buds and blooms of tomorrow. a life well lived moving to the next level, leaving behind sorrow for those who are left here in the liminal space. but to have lived well and been kind and good-hearted and thoughtful to those who miss her now. to leave behind the pain of a cruel illness and move into the rebirth of green, the sunlight of a flower-strewn spring, seems somehow the best ending one can hope for. to have loved and been loved, to have laughed, to shed tears and have tears shed for you, to leave something behind, a mark on the world--in the form of children and grandchildren and a home that really feels like home...it's what we're all striving for in our own way. it's an achievement of the highest order.

and although the sun set on a life well-lived today, the sorrow is all ours, those left behind, who will miss her laughter, her kindness, her positive spirit, staying up late drinking one more glass of red wine, fresh soft-boiled eggs from her hens for breakfast, her fantastic dinners, those little fjord shrimp that sabin, at age 3, trotted back into the kitchen again and again, saying "mere, mere" until magda laughed with delight at how much such a little girl could eat. we're left with the good memories and an empty spot in our lives.

here at the change of seasons, a reminder that life is as cyclical and predictable as they are, even in their unpredictability.