It’s that time of the year again. That one month.

I’m getting used to it. It comes around every year, knocks the air out of me, and then leaves again. Knowing that it comes and goes and that there’s nothing I can do about it makes it easier for me to bear it. What I’m talking about it my mom’s birthday and the anniversary of her passing, of course. She would have turned 65 tomorrow. We would have had a family get-together and a party this weekend. And on December 23 it will be five years since we said our goodbyes.

I’m learning to be kind to myself. Sometimes I would get impatient, almost mad at myself for grieving, and I would ignore my feelings. But I don’t see a reason why I should do it any more. I would be kind to anyone else in this situation, it’s about time for me to be kind to myself. So I say to my boss that I need some extra time and space for myself these days, I don’t push myself too hard, I cancel an appointment or two. And I take extra time for taking care of myself.

What I do is so obvious it wouldn’t really deserve a blog post. But still. I listen to Arvo Pärt’s Berlin Mass almost obsessively these days because this music is a lifeline for me. I give myself permission to read a little longer in the evenings than usual. (Chinelo Okparanta and Herta Müller have kept me company over the last days - these ladies really know how to write) I take long walks. I stay away fom people, with a few exceptions, of course. I went out with K. last night and we talked about mom and we talked about dad and it was so good because I don’t even have to finish a sentence, he already knows what I mean, and vice versa. No-one understands me like he does and no-one understands him like I do. I guess that’s what you’d call „the sibling blessing“.

And the good thing is that even all that loneliness and longing do not take away anything beautiful. They just add an extra lense, an extra meaning to goodness and beauty. It doesn’t take anything away from the joy of receiving a letter from U., from the heart-felt gratitude for another good concert, from the deep feeling of satisfaction for doing something meaningful as I leave the national radio station after recorning the morning devotionals, from a privilege of having lunch with a 93 year old Catholic priest who seems to be made up of faith and hope and nothing else. The valley of the shadow of death (death’s shadow can be long, so long!) does not make me shut my little notebook where I write down everything I’m grateful for on the daily basis. I still keep couning my blessings, even if the tears make my eyes go blurry for a while. I still keep praying for other people even if my own prayers seem to go unanswered.

But I am also longing for this season to be over. I long for snow and for light and for spring and for laughther and for someone who could stop the shadow of death from coming any further.