It’s a nice day today. Sunny, warm, bright with blossoms of Spring.
Blossoms that remind me of Greg. Oh, he wasn’t a fan of flowers, but there are two he did like – violets and wild strawberries.
Greg liked the dark purple blooms of the violets. I’m not sure why he liked the yellow blooms of the strawberries, other than the plants do not get very tall. When I would mow areas of the yard that had wild strawberries in bloom, he would ask if the blooms were still there when I finished. The strawberries were usually short enough that the mower left the yellow blossoms to brighten the yard.
Our yard is liberally dotted with violet and wild strawberry blooms today. It appears that the two plants are vying for dominance. In spots the violets are winning, in other spots the strawberries.
A stiff breeze that is more related to March than April jostles the blossoms. A breeze that would have given Greg an earache, and caused him to stay indoors.
Reminders, more reminders of what I have lost and will never have again. A good man and his love, neither of which can be replaced, no matter what I do.
I am alone with grief.
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