Friday, April 8, 2016

The Cruelest Month

My fourteenth year without Grace. Like all of you who have suffered loss, it feels both forever and like yesterday that I held her sticky hand, felt the weight of her on my lap, combed her tangled hair, heard her husky laugh, smiled at her bright blue eyes behind her wire rimmed glasses, sang along with her to Eight Days A Week

My body and heart know that April is here before my mind registers it. The depression begins. The waking at night and lethargy during the day. The inability to write or read and instead binge watch--this year--Transparent.

T.S. Eliot wrote:

"APRIL is the cruellest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing 
Memory and desire, stirring 
Dull roots with spring rain."