Grief Journey Day + 221

The Time of Great Mud

My husband loved Spring. He loved it despite the troubled weather that always ended the winter and ushered it in. We have forceful winds, rain, hail, tornadoes and floods. We have had something called straight line winds that cause as much damage as any tornado. The straight line winds can literally break giant trees in half, leaving the lower half, standing, the upper half broken off and sometimes flung far away. And it rains and rains.

You have heard the saying ‘April showers bring May flowers’, but we have March, April and May showers that just keep coming. My husband called Spring “the time of great mud.” I guess that describes it pretty well. And, despite the fact that my husband hated gloomy skies, he still loved spring and the warmer weather it brought and the days that were filled with sunny, blue skies, fair winds and growing things.

I will miss watching him drive the lawn mower around, picking up sticks, and building bonfires in the front and back yards. He was always restless, but he was filled with a new energy every Spring, a determination to tame the land and keep our property in a good working order. He had the ability to make lists in his head of all the projects he wanted to get done. He never forgot a single item, and he could mentally check them off one by one. I would ask him about something, and he would say, “that’s already on my list.”

He was going to put a new roof on our house this spring, with the help of our sons. This is something I will have to figure out on my own, now.

I am also making lists sometimes. I bought a special notebook just for my lists. It is a long narrow notebook with a spiral at the top and it says in cheerful letters on the front, “I Love Lists”. And I have always been a list person. I make a list of what needs done, and I get it done. That was always me, before. I have found that now I am a great procrastinator. I told my daughter this today and she cried out in shock. But it’s true. And I honestly don’t care. I am so tired all the time, and sometimes I just think about what needs doing and I tell myself, “No. I am not going to do that today, perhaps tomorrow.” The old me would be very shocked to discover that pretty much everything still gets done. Just slowly.

I will be missing the sight of my husband working out in the yard this spring. Of him pulling on muck boots and tromping out onto our property in the time of the great mud. I will miss him coming into the house, smelling of fresh air and wood smoke and telling me that he has started a fire in the backyard. Would I like to come and sit outside next to the fire with him? Yes I would. How I would love that. Now, only in my memories.

I am missing you, Billy.