Grief and Gratitude

Yesterday was a perfect Saturday.

I slept in. I had nothing planned. And I spent a large portion of my morning and afternoon on my front step surrounded by my flowers, listening.

The insects were chirping. Water was dripping from my plants after giving them a drink. In the distance, music from the local festival in the park echoed through the neighbourhood. Ironically, someone was singing Coat of Many Colors by the recently departed legend and exceptional human being Dolly Parton.

And I felt a lot of feels.

I went back to school this week.

There’s been more emotion wrapped up in that return than I expected. I’m still grappling with grief over the resignation of my leadership role and the loss of the health I once took for granted—the health I’m working so hard to regain.

But alongside that grief, there is also so much to celebrate.

Connection with my peers. Familiar faces. Laughter. Connection with new families joining our school community. New beginnings. And an upcoming opportunity to finally begin some of the physical healing my body needs.

I’m learning that grief and gratitude can exist together. I can miss what was while still appreciating what is. I can grieve parts of myself and my life that have changed while also feeling hopeful about what might be ahead.

We don’t have many warm Saskatchewan Saturdays like that left. And Saturdays with absolutely nothing on the calendar can sometimes feel even rarer.

So yesterday, I didn’t rush to fill the space.

I sat outside.

I read. I thought. I wondered. I journaled. I watched. I listened. I observed.

The flowers. The sounds. The warmth of the sun. The music floating through the neighbourhood.

My thoughts coming and going.

It’s amazing how much is happening around us all the time that we don’t notice when we’re rushing from one thing to the next.

Sometimes you just have to slow down long enough to take it all in.

And yesterday, that’s exactly where I wanted to be.