Last Friday, for Maria's funeral, the weather in Minnesota was brilliantly sunny, but cold. Single digit temperatures.
We were only up there for a couple of days, and late winter decided to follow up back down to Kansas City. It's snowing outside again now, the second time this week. It didn't snow all winter, but now, in March, it's here.
The previous weeks of unseasonably warm weather had all the trees blooming - too soon, it turns out. The fragrance of their flowers has been abruptly cut off; the petals are brown, sad.
I can empathize.
The last few days have been tough. I've continued to look for work - fortunately for me, the computers on the other end can't tell how half-heartedly I push the apply button for the jobs. (If / when one of these pretend jobs turns into reality that, in itself, will boost my enthusiasm for the process.)
Yesterday, I was back to my January pattern. It's gray, it's cold. Time for a nap. Time to look out the window and contemplate the beauty of the bare branches waving gently against the gray sky. Time to retreat into a contemplative state. Not thinking, not trying to process the events of the year, but rather, just being with wherever the heck it is I am for a few minutes.
Processing hard things takes its toll. I'm sending a lot of healing energy in Tony (my eldest brother) and Libby's directions. (Libby starts round II of chemo next week, Tony's prostate cancer surgery is scheduled for the end of the month.)
At the funeral, people kindly asked how I was doing. I had no answer, so deflected the question to a heartfelt, "it is good to see you - I am glad you are here today". If I were to be asked the question today, I would still have no answer. No idea how I am.
Winter 2.0 is scheduled to last only a few more days. Spring will return.
This, too, shall pass.
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