Twenty-two years ago this week, I went home for Spring Break in order to see my mother who was very sick. At the beginning of the week, the doctors told us she had maybe 6 months. I held onto that number like a lifeline, assuming I could finish the semester before having to deal with "any of this stuff." She was gone before the week was over.
Every year in March, I think about that week so many years ago. So much happened. So many things I thought were true on Monday evaporated by Saturday.
This year, our grief over Dad is so much more fresh. March has lost some of its usual sting, and I'm thankful for that. I am thankful for the grace brought about by time and distance. I am counting on that grace to come to us once again for the losses we suffered in 2011.