Grief Post - Six Months

Today I mark six months since my father died.  That summer day changed my life, and I've been dreading the winter and its cold bleak depression.

I'm bitter that the leaves of my father's last spring will soon be desiccated litter.  Dad loved the spring.  He taught me to watch for the burst of new shoots with that audacious new green.  I want the desperate optimistic energy that powers that new life to stay with me.

I'm grateful that some of the trees in my neighborhood are holding their leaves this year, even past the first snow.  It feels like a gift to me.  They're hanging on, and, for now, so am I.  When they finally fall I will mourn the passage of time and my one and only dad.  I will also be glad that those leaves hung on as long as they did.

I miss you, Dad.