The gestation of grief in wonderland

It's been nine months since my father died.

It seems like such a long time ago, and yet like yesterday - but the hardest part is that when I do go to pick up the phone to call him to ask him a question, or tell him a funny story, he's not there. 

Right after his death and mom's illness, there were lots of things to "do" and many things to fill time with. Now, it's quieter, and there's more time to pause. More time to think. More chances to be reminded. 

Nine months is that magic number for mothers - to bring new life into the world. And certainly, there's a new reality in my world, too. 

To say that things are different is an understatement. 

I've just now begun to deal with this new world, which feels much like Wonderland. 

Sometimes it's overwhelming. Sometimes it's peculiar. Sometimes it's lonely.

Sometimes I feel like I'm walking through a forest filled with giant purple trees. 

No. Wait, that's just a picture from the Flower & Garden Festival. 

In that time, so many other people I know have lost parents. Maybe it's not more than usual - maybe I'm just more sensitive about it now, but it really does seem like the past year has been a really busy one up at the pearly gates. In my department alone, three of us have lost fathers in the last nine months. There are only a dozen of us. That's got to be a statisticaly anomale, right?

***

I wrote this in March 2016. It's still not any easier in May 2019. 

Autumn blooms; new beginnings

One of the hardest things about living in Florida is missing the chance to experience all four seasons. Though I don't miss the cold, snowy winters, I do often lament the lack of the spring fragrances and the cool, crisp, fall evenings that I grew up with in the northeast.

But as I've been driving to work the past few days, I've noticed something interesting. The trees may not be changing colors in the traditional deciduous way, but there is a definite transformation happening. New blooms are coming out. Plants that lay dormant under the hot, humid sun have found themselves seeking some fresh air in the cooler mornings.
The result is a new color palette under a bluer sky, with wispy white clouds dotting the atmosphere, instead of the heavy storm clouds that we've become so familiar with all summer.
This change in nature is a good reminder for me that life's rhythms aren't always planned either, and sometimes, there are good things just waiting around the corner if we alter our expectations.
After this summer of loss, the blooming plumeria tree in our front yard seems like hope and new beginnings, and a reminder that adventures are just around the corner.