Comment on Forget stages, my grief flows through seasons

Forget stages, my grief flows through seasons

My late husband Jim and I enjoyed looking for the first signs of spring together. It was almost a contest between us. The first new green blade of grass. A crocus. Pussywillows. Melting frost percolating to the surface of the driveway, making one end of it a muddy sluiceway. Tom …

 

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