Another season, another month,
Another day, another second—
Your memory remains,
Never to fade, despite your absence.
The flowers bloom, and with time,
So does my spirit. Little by little.
I look back more fondly,
My soul less heavy, though still heavy.
Grief is a weird thing.
It feels so close, then far again,
Then creeping in like swarming bugs
Or uncomfortable heat,
Springing on you without a warning,
Like the changing of the seasons.
Before you know it, it’s been months
Without your smile or your laugh.
But I see it and still hear it
Like you were beside me yesterday,
Taking walks in the cool breeze
And sitting in the backyard, chatting.
You loved this time of year—
Being outside in the morning beams,
Listening to the birds chirp,
Loving and basking in the little things.
But little things can mean so much.
So I think of you when I sit outside,
When I take time out of the business of life,
To enjoy the little things, like spring.
Months ago, I really wondered
If this pain would ever go away.
Now, I see I never want it to,
Because it always brings me back to you.
Without the pain, would I remember
The way you’d sip your morning coffee?
Would I care about the birds singing
In the early morning?
The little things. The things
That didn’t mean much to me before.
In the little things, your memory
Springs to life, and stays forevermore.
Ded. Memories of you
