Craig Lundwall: I Miss You
The daffodils are coming up at my parents' after a long, steep, cold winter. Years ago I planted many of the bulbs that are thriving today. (I remember dad asking me if I'd come over after work and help him plant 500 bulbs. "Sure," I said. It sounded like nothing, but then sticking those bulbs in the rocky, unyielding ground made the task a challenge and a half. I planted many but far and away not all of those bulbs.) I love seeing them blossom ever spring. They are my favorite flower.
Noticing them today and thinking of you, I recalled that spring was not your favorite season, that winter was with its bright sunshine and crisp blues and whites. Spring seems such a dull evaporating of winter into something else. A time between times. I think of you on the anniversary of your passing, Craig. I think of what you loved. It is no wonder. You, too, were a bright light. A strong personality. A presence. Every year at this time I think the winter you loved feeds the daffodils I love, makes change possible.
Damn it all, though, I miss you.