By Lori Welch Brown

Spring. We made it! Hallelujah! Bring on the blossoms and the blooms, I say. I also say, “Bring on the Claritin and Kleenex.”

While I’d love to spring into action, Old Man Winter still has his grip on my aching joints, his cobwebs still clinging to my mind.  And that’s why we need Mother Spring.

Mother Spring invites us to clear out the cobwebs in our attics—physically and metaphorically. Nothing feels better than a good Spring dust off, clean up, and clear out. Our homes need attention after a season of spending so much time huddled up, trying to stay warm in them. And, our bodies need attention after a season couched in front of the TV binge watching Law & Order, only getting up for the Domino’s pizza handoff.

It’s the time of year we walk around the house and think, “Do you think I can get $2 at the yard sale for this impulse purchase vase I paid $79 for last year?” The answer is no, but hopefully you’ll keep that in mind with this year’s impulses. If you’re like me, you’ll work like a dog to curate your treasures on folding tables and stand in the cold, wind, and rain (always perfect weather the Saturday before your sale), only to net $12. You’ll spend the rest of the day boxing up your treasures deciding which will go back in the house, which will go to Goodwill, and which will go directly to the landfill. And then you’ll take your $12 and go buy a bottle of wine and some Ben Gay. FYI—unless you happen to like Two-Buck-Chuck, you’ll be in the hole.

If you think the movement from cleaning out the garage is enough to remind you how callous Old Man Winter can be—just wait ’til you start bending down to pull weeds.

It’s not all cleaning and pruning as Spring is the season of hope and rebirth as well as the prelude to pedicures and flip flops. The Easter bunny has come and gone and left us with the promise of warmer temps, the glorious sounds of baseball, and ballpark hotdogs.

For me, this Spring is bittersweet as I recently lost someone important in my life. Grief has not been a stranger to me as I’ve mourned the loss of both my parents, all my grandparents, aunts, uncles, a few cousins and close friends, as well as a sibling. Not to mention two beloved fur babies.

You’d think with all that experience in mourning, I’d be a pro. But I’m not. That’s not how death and grieving roll. Each one is different, and no matter how ‘prepared’ you are, you’re left dumbstruck.

This particular person has been like an aunt to me—a part of my family since before I was born. She was kind, compassionate, a good listener, fun, funny. All the things you want in a person. She worked in the airline industry for over six decades, made—and kept—friends from every aspect of her life for life.

I’m struggling with the reality of her passing. She’s gone. The last of my parent’s generation.

My aunt and I saw each other for lunch here and there over the last few years, but I wish it had been more frequently. She didn’t like to go out in the cold and so I thought, “When the weather is warmer, I’ll reach out and set something up.”

She loved to talk on the phone—for hours at a time. When my dad was still alive, the two of them held marathon conversations reminiscing about my mom and all the aunts and uncles—all long gone. As an introvert, the last thing I want to do is talk on the phone for hours, but I now I wish I had. I’d give anything to hear more stories, spend more time with her, connect with the last of my parent’s contemporaries.

And—why don’t I have more pictures? I have a phone with a camera and somehow, I have no pictures of the two of us. That seems criminal.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again because it bears repeating. Don’t take the people in your life for granted—especially the seniors. Sure—you probably have a million things you need to do, i.e., clean out your overflowing garage or train for a marathon vs. spending an hour on the phone or taking them to lunch. Maybe you’d rather spend that hour doing something more ‘fun,’ but trust me when I say, you’ll regret that decision once they’re gone.

While I’m thrilled to be saying goodbye to Old Man Winter, I’m having a hard time saying goodbye to my aunt. Luckily, I have Mother Spring nudging me and encouraging me to shake off my cobwebs, throw open the windows, and make a play date. She also reminds me that everything is cyclical—her youth and vitality is short lived and it won’t be long before we are reunited with Old Man Winter—just as we will be reunited with all those we’ve long said our goodbyes to.

So, I guess it’s not goodbye, Old Man Winter, but “see you soon.” Just not too soon because I’ve got to go get a pedicure.

About the Author: Lori is a local writer, painter and pet lover who loves to share her experiences and expertise with our readers. She has been penning a column for the OTC for over 25 years. Please follow Lori online on Medium for more missives like this.