This song has taken up space in my head for the past few days.
I’ve always been the kind of person who believed when a door was closed, another would open. Or maybe it would be a window. Or a mouse hole. But some sort of lemonade could be made from nearly any situation.
For a long time I wasn’t sure how I was going to find the lemonade in the passing of my Mom. I know that I have a better and closer relationship with my Dad, now, which is a huge positive, but I never felt like that felt like a fair trade. I wanted my Dad and my Mom.
But since this weekend, my silver lining has finally appeared. I’ve read comment after comment from people that my words, my direct words and ideas, have helped their grief. It’s a big thing for me to take in. It feels big and terrifying and awesome.
I under no dissolution that my blog traffic will stay quintupled. This will never be a grief blog. It’s just me. Grief is just one of my parts and I know my Mom wouldn’t want it to consume me. I had that weird dream about her that one time that cured me of that.
For years, I’ve counted small things as gifts from my Mom. The ladybugs that pollute my house in the fall. The hummingbirds that come to the feeder. The spattering of snow on Christmas. The flock of cardinals outside the windows. The butterfly that seemed to play a quick game of ring around the rosie with Littlebit one summer day. Maybe this was another. Thanks for the silver lining, Mom.