Saturday April 4, 2015

We are clinging to these last days of Spring Break - we're golfing today, Easter tomorrow and then Monday starts a nine week sprint to the end of the school year.

For Erin, those nine weeks will include 13 golf meets, 4 volleyball tournaments and countless practices for both.  Oh, and school...

For Dan, it will include trips to Wisconsin, Michigan, North Dakota and down to Nashville for sales meetings as well.

For me, well, I'll continue to do my weekly Mayo Clinic News Network writing, volunteer coach with the golf team, and be available to prop Dan and Erin up when necessary!  I wouldn't have it any other way...

I know we aren't out of the woods yet on the spring weather, but having some sunshine the past week has sure been nice.  We've gotten out to golf, and we've enjoyed sitting on our new patio, making s'mores over the fire pit and talking about life.  Erin has been willing to hang out some with mom and dad, and we sure do love that.  We continue to laugh a lot and enjoy each other's company.

There's been a full moon rising the past couple of nights.  A reminder of Shannon, always.  I've written before about how hard it is to imagine what are life would be like if Shannon were still with us.  I don't wish away what we have, but I do wonder.

The other night, I set the table for four.  No reason, just forgot.  Three plus years down the road, yet somewhere in the recesses of my brain, she is still here.

In this season of renewal, we look to what is new and good.  That's progress.  I am excited about what's ahead. But, I never leave behind what is passed.  I can't.  I cannot leave Shannon behind.

I read this quote recently about moving forward: " View the future through the windshield, not the rear view mirror."   Sounds like a good plan, but Shannon only shows up in the rear view mirror...

So, I continue to find myself moving forward, looking back.  Little reminders of her come frequently - a song on the radio, a movie she liked - and I hold those memories so tightly, afraid to let them slip.

I have a tendency to get ahead of myself, and I wonder - in 20 years, when I hear Katy Perry sing about "Last Friday Night" will I still be able to picture Shannon singing it at the top of her lungs, riding in our minivan?  I hope so.

I guess this is a way of acceptance.  This grief is forever.  That's daunting.  But, memories keep her close and reminders of her oftentimes make me smile.  Happy Easter, everyone.

"She was no longer wrestling with the grief, but could sit down with it as a lasting companion and make it a sharer in her thoughts." - George Eliot