After my dad died, I was going through his photos and came across a small notecard with a handwritten poem on it. As I finished reading the poem, I glanced at the date written at the bottom of the notecard: 3/23/95.
Seeing the date took by breath away; he wrote the poem exactly 25 years before he died. To. The. Day.
In reading his poem at his memorial services, I asked those he left behind to look at 3/23 through his eyes, and to see what he saw, the day he wrote the poem:
We rejoice – winter has waned and spring at last is near.
The cold winds, with their final blustery challenge in March, yield to the gentle breezes, which carry warmth into April.
Rushing streams, swollen with winter’s hasty retreat, become calm and slow, to a peaceful flow.
The crocus and tulips, awakened from their winter’s sleep, stretch to greet the warmth of the sun and provide us a lovely rainbow, a display of color, which is a welcome change to winters grey.
We see ourselves surrounded by the renewal, and the abundance, of life.
As we experience this miracle of spring, let us be mindful of the abundance of our blessings, and let us allow our spirits, like the budding tree, to burst forth, so that we may share our blessings and love with others.
The seasons are an analogy of the circle of life. Even in the coldest and darkest of hours – when those moments feel like an eternity – spring reminds us that those moments do not last forever; it reminds us that life is present and should be lived to its fullest.
My dad lived his life to the fullest every day. I will honor his memory by doing the same.