"Hope is the Thing With Feathers"

We knew it was coming, but when it arrived we were still shocked. Our snow shovelling team quits at the end of March, and here we were with this huge dump of snow everywhere!

The Easter bunny came like he was supposed to, right onto our deck, but no Easter treats for us! He was eating all the bird seeds that had fallen from the bird feeder. He lives under the deck in winter. In summer he enjoys living under the two tall pines in our front yard  with his ever growing family, nibbling on things he's not supposed to. We are well into April, but it feels like midwinter in more ways than one.

I looked out our window at these two beautiful trees in our front yard and I was suddenly overcome by sadness. Subconsciously I think I always compared them to us, Hardy and me, a couple who has weathered many a storm and come out the stronger for it. We have sheltered our young and watched them outgrow their shelter, watched them as they raise their own young, our precious grandchildren. We have counted our losses, but together we have not been overwhelmed ... until now, that is.

We hear the doctor tell us that Hardy's cancer has spread from the bladder to other parts of his body. He gives us some options. We hear his words but they don't really register properly. We go home and have some Easter bread and coffee. We enjoy being together. We take a nap.

The next day it hits us like the winter storm. We are overwhelmed by grief. We tell ourselves that love is stronger than death, that there is a resurrection. But we grieve our separation and we are afraid. Afraid of death, afraid of being alone ... .

Last night I dreamt that Hardy told me he was going on a trip. I said I wanted to come along but he said I couldn't. 

Still in my dream, I got up to go to the washroom. My dad was in there (he passed away in 2005). He accompanied me back to the bedroom and sat on the bed with me the way he always did when I was a teenager and got into trouble with Mom. It was comforting.

I had another dream. Mom was in it (she passed away in 2008). She was preparing for a family dinner and we were late, a trait not tolerated well in our family. She was telling Hardy that he needed to be better prepared so he wouldn't always be late!

I felt like they had both come to tell me everything would be alright. I hang on to that.

Hope is the thing with feathers

That perches in the soul,

And sings the tune without the words,

And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;

And sore must be the storm

That could abash the little bird

That kept so many warm.

I've heard it in the chillest land, 

And on the strangest sea; 

yet, never in extremity, 

It asked a crumb of me. 

                                                               Emily Dickinson

                                                      

We gave this yellow gerbera to our daughter for her birthday last March. It thrived all summer but then languished and almost died when it was brought inside. Grandson Ivan looked at a gerbera I had taken into the house, which was doing well. I told him I gave it lots of water. He said he would try that. It worked like a charm.  He sent me the picture above. 

"The process of life demands that some things pass away to make room for others. The leaves fall, to be replaced, next spring, by new buds. Generation succeeds generation. Last year's dying fruit is this year's seed. It is the pattern of creation." 

                                                                      Saint Augustine