Mixed up month

May is a mixed up month. Spring boxes with winter, and the daffodils bloom in spite of a cold north wind bringing with it hard hail that bites and bruises.

It's difficult to write my last column for The Sentinel, especially the day after Nik's birthday, which this year fell on Mother's Day. I don't want this to be a sad column, but it's hard to be happy when the May wind rips through the hole in my heart. I miss my son, and this year, dreaded the special day set aside for all moms.

So, instead of participating in production day weekend at The Sentinel, my daughter and I drove to the crash site to visit the place Nik died. We smoked a camel cigarette in his memory and resigned the yield sign near the tree his car hit.

Later, we planted two trees for Nik, a flowering Hawthorne and a dwarf peach. We dug into the rich soil, unearthing three boulders and several worms. The sun flitted in and out, threatening rain. We put the trees in their holes, added a handful of Nik's ashes, a shovel full of horse manure, and potting soil.

When Nik died, I didn't think I would ever write again, much less return to college. But I had tasted the ravages of grief when my husband died May 2, 1993, and I could not go down that dangerous dark path again. I made a decision to live, and returned to finish my senior year at LCSC to study parental grief.

A year later, I came back to NIC as the online editor and got to take art classes. I used words and art to help me trudge through my mourning. And these tools have given me new perspectives on life.

I will especially miss The Sentinel, Nils Rosdahl, our adviser, and the talented students I have worked with. I am grateful to both LCSC and NIC in giving me a voice for my grief. Because I have a voice, I can still sing, in spite of the cold wind that howls in my heart and the never ending longing to be with my son.

May, the month of mixed blessings. Two blue birds have taken up residence in Nik's garden. I will get to watch them build their nest and see their babies take their first flight.

Life is glorious.
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