I am out for a walk today with my baby girl at the park. The sun is out, the famous cherry blossoms are blooming in their full glory, and the air is warm. There are lots of people out. I’m seeing so many grandmas with their little ones. It’s Spring Break and the parents are probably at work.
All of a sudden, I feel really, truly, overwhelmingly sad. The realization of my mother’s absence hits me in the face like an icy gust of wind. I remember that she is gone from this world. I remember that my baby girl will never meet her. I remember that my mom will never get to be her grandma in that way.
She will never hold her little hand and feed the ducks.
All of a sudden, it’s like time has stopped. My loss is everywhere. It surrounds me and darkens this Spring day. It’s in the cherry blossoms and in the ripples of the lake. That’s the thing about grief, I guess. It sneaks up on you. It darkens a beautiful day. It hides inside the smallest things and causes them to cause the most intense, most painful reminders of our loss.