It’s that time of year again.  My screened-in porch gives a new spot for living.  This week I washed the furniture, vacuumed all the cushions of winter partials and scrubbed the floor with solvent that left a squeaky clean feel to bare feet.  The ceiling fan ensures a soft constant breeze.  Today the humidity is cooperating, and is comfortable.  The wind passing by comes in ribbons of strength that have tree leaves dancing and shaking, lifting their heads to sound like the waves of the ocean.  The afternoon sunlight makes the dancing green leaves glisten and glitter as if the trees were painted with glass.  All this with the backdrop of a cloudless bright blue sky makes for a perfect day.  

I feel content and settled with my life, but today, have pulled out a tender spot in my past to hold in the present.  Today is my wedding anniversary.  I’ve spent this day alone without my lovely mate for ten years now.  He fought long and hard and lost his battle with cancer.  A wedding day comes and goes, the details etched in a heart with lasting depth.  I enjoyed being a bride but loved being a wife.   Today is my day to remember, and I will, sitting on my porch.  My private sadness overshadowed by the joy of the years we were blessed to have.  

The grief of loss, no matter the missing piece for you, plows up rocky soil inside us and plants seeds of compassion.  Grief grows a tender eye to see the pain in someone else.  Shared grief is a ribbon that ties your story to mine.  It becomes a link that allows hearts to cross over time and space.  Grief walks hand in hand with transition as we forge a new way and move ahead.

If you have a quiet porch or a lovely place to sit for a while today, take the opportunity to quiet your demands and remember the people who shaped you into who you are now: a parent, a friend, or a husband.