This time last year, amidst the tender yellow and greening of spring's arrival, we celebrated Easter. It was also when we discovered my dad's cancer and the merriment then felt tenuous and fleeting. This spring, a whole year later the memory still feels surprisingly tender. My dad fought his battle and won and is thankfully well and cancer free, but the daffodils are a reminder, a mix of joy and aching sadness and a bittersweet mix of the fragility of life and love.
The other day at the grocery store I was doing my regular shopping with my little one in tow and he saw the big bunches of bright yellow flowers. He excitedly urged me to get them simply because "they're so beautiful!" My initial reaction was like having the wind knocked out of me. No. I hate those flowers.
But as our children so often do he helped me see things, once again, through fresh eyes. These flowers simply are beautiful and ultimately a symbol of hope and strength, at least that's the sentiment they're meant to carry. And it is a new year. And most importantly my dad is here and it's another Easter we all get to celebrate, together.
So even though it's not easy, I'm decidedly making peace with the daffodils. My son carried two bunches of them through the entire store marveling at them, beaming and so happy he could take them home. And so a new reminder - simply one of Joy - and today we will celebrate life.