It’s been thirteen years today since my dad died. The day sits in my memory; not just from sorrow and exhaustion, but also because it seemed fitting that he died on Pearl Harbor Day.
November has long been my least favorite month. It was my mom’s too (except for my brother’s birthday). She and I used to lament to each other on the phone each year when the time changed and the world went dark way earlier than seemed fair.
I feel the first flutters of hope in nearly fourteen months, as the second vaccine courses through my blood, and daffodils and tulips stand up to the snow. Signs of life are in the air and I’ve found that inner energy that stole away and hid from me last spring.
Based in Denver, Colorado, Gretchen Seefried, LCSW, supports parents and adults in managing anxiety, stress, and trauma with empathy and care.
