Seasons cherished …

The other day I looked out my bedroom window and I saw that almost all the leaves on the tree outside had fallen.  And in that instant the realization hit me that the seasons had once again changed.  Then as thoughts often piggy back onto new thoughts— another realization transpired and it was one of grief.

Grandma lived through ninety- six metamorphoses of fall changing to winter.

Ninety-six!!!! 

And this was the very first changing of seasons that she wasn’t here for…

Grief is such a sneaky emotion.  One can be completely immersed in a normal task, without thought or care to the person we miss, and then out of no where there will be a thought that takes us back to our loss.

I was folding laundry and looking out the window one second and then the next I was thinking of my grandmother’s absence.  

She held the seasons for us in so many ways.  The way she decorated, the way she cooked and the conversations we held.  And she never once said I didn’t want to live in Oregon with it’s wet weather or it’s clouds.  

She seemed to appreciate all the changes that we experienced.

I will miss sharing the seasons with her and I sorely miss our visits. 

Going into this winter I feel a little bare myself just like the trees outside my windows.