More on that Spring Thing

Dear John,

 

I'm still pondering the spring thing. You couldn't wait to hear more introspection, could you? I try to not disappoint.

 

When I was younger I had a restless attack every spring. I knew things were serious with you when we dated through two complete springs. I did wild things like buy blue and green nail polish - in the 1970s when that wasn't done. Later I'd tackle new projects in the house or the garden. I'd love to do that again. But since your death, spring is just depressing.

 

I've though some more about it since last night. I believe the hardest part is that in early spring we were so hopeful. We really expected you to be okay. And that's what hurts the most. We went into that spring believing you'd come home, take some time to get your strength back, re-start chemo, go back to work part-time, and life would go on. The first thing we wanted to do was go up to Michigan and spend a week in Holland, just to get away and be with each other. And you couldn't wait to get home to the dog, the bed, and the channel guide on Direct TV. Not necessarily in that order.

 

That didn't happen. The contrast between the hope of early spring and the reality of subsequent events is quite painful. The joy and beauty of spring hasn't yet been able to overcome that. I hope it will - I really don't want to be depressed every spring for the rest of my life. And that bring up the obvious fact that I don't want the rest of my life, either. But that's another night's topic.

 

In spite of my moods, everything is really fine here. We had another inch or two of snow today so it was slow at work. I did my half-day today, and was in the lobby where there is central heat and you can sit down, so it was quite luxurious. Then I ran the car by for Bob to see why my tire pressure light was on (I need a new sensor for the left rear wheel) and to put on new wiper blades for me. I got milk, picked up the mail, and came home and knitted all evening with animals lying all over me.

 

I washed sheets today, so they're nice and clean. You always loved going to bed on fresh sheets. It's better if they're dried on the clothesline, but today they'd just have frozen. I'd love for you to visit tonight, in person or in my dreams. Come and let's just spend time together. Come and make me feel better?

 

All my love,

Joan.