With heads bowed...

The daffodils bowed in submission to the wild pelleting of the snow, tiny balls resembling the space ice cream I was introduced to at the Alaska State Fair 40 years ago. Not light, dancing flakes…little tiny balls that fell from the sky and bounced off my shoulder and the granite steps as I walked out in the cold morning to spend some time down by the lake shore where the mist was rising with the sun. With such great contrast to the summerlike weather we experienced last week, winter once again entered spring and declared, “I’m not gone yet!” All around me, the once proud flowers standing tall yesterday, lay humbled by the fierceness of it. Would they be okay, I wondered? The sunrise was magnificent, seen for a short while before the clouds returned with their unleashing from above. A mixed day. Shortly after my walk and breakfast at the inn, my siblings and I joined at the site of my mom’s final resting place. Sun, clouds, snow, repeat. Laughter, stories, tears, repeat. A final prayer by the priest, with our heads bowed, we submitted to this final goodbye. But not in defeat, more with acceptance and gratitude of the love felt by family, and especially by a mother who lived and loved so well. Goodbye for now, Mom. Rest in Peace. The daffodils are upright again, and they are going to be okay.