In my former pre-havingachildwhodied life I loved April. I am not a big fan of winter. As I live in northern Illinois that is somewhat ironic. April mean tulips, chives, green, asparagus from who knows where, but good! and getting ready to plant. I love to cook and always laugh when chef-y people talk about "locally sourced" ingredients. Does that mean that those of in the mid-west are relegated to squash and pork during the cold, dark months of winter? Nevertheless, I will joyfully buy produce that has flavor in April regardless how long its journey to my corner of the world took. I will "locally source" all summer and fall, but in early spring, feel free to truck it in.
I have to admit, I dread "my" ten days of April. My son turned 16 on April 7th and died on April 17th of 2008. Four years ago. I feel myself being sucked under by the waves of grief. Sometimes my acquired ability to only cry in the shower fails me. I miss him every day. I wish with all my heart that I would know, good or bad, what he would be like at 20. But every day, I live with what "is".
I look outside and love the fact it's still light out and green. Soon I will be able to plant herbs and flowers. Life goes on and it's good. While I am blessed in many ways, part of me will never be the same.
I have to admit, I dread "my" ten days of April. My son turned 16 on April 7th and died on April 17th of 2008. Four years ago. I feel myself being sucked under by the waves of grief. Sometimes my acquired ability to only cry in the shower fails me. I miss him every day. I wish with all my heart that I would know, good or bad, what he would be like at 20. But every day, I live with what "is".
I look outside and love the fact it's still light out and green. Soon I will be able to plant herbs and flowers. Life goes on and it's good. While I am blessed in many ways, part of me will never be the same.
