Things have been tough lately, friends.  As you may have noticed from my lack of presence in this space, I have been finding it hard to articulate exactly what it is I have been feeling.  And because I try to keep this blog filled with positivity, it has been difficult to come into this space with the honesty I try to present here.  Over the course of the last few months, the void of life without my mom has been growing to depths I never thought possible.  I guess I never anticipated what it would be like to raise my children without my own mom by my side.  Even when we lived in Champaign, she was just a phone call away, and now, well, she is not.  It feels as if I am on an island, on which I am alone and unable to navigate.  I am just lost.

My mom always talked of seeing signs of her own deceased parents in her natural surroundings.  The turkeys crossing the road were signs from her dad, and the blue birds perched on her bird bath was her mom stopping by for a quick hello.  Well, I had been grappling for these same signs of her, but as I looked out my window all I seemed to see was the dreariness that is February and March in the Midwest.  I grew weary, for I could see no signs of life, nor signs of my mom.

But last week, something seemed to have shifted with the thawing ground and the warmth of the sunshine upon my skin.  I felt like I may be turning a corner.  I saw glimmers of my mom in the cardinal resting upon the chair outside my window while I drank my morning coffee.  I sensed her excitement as my girls assembled the fairy garden she gave them.  And I could feel her presence beside me Friday afternoon as I peered into the soil of my garden perimeter and spied her blackeyed susans pushing up through the surface of the blackness.  Perhaps I just need to have patience, and although I now know I will never feel completely whole again, maybe I will be able to heal just enough to see the color of life push its way through the darkness.