April is the Cruelist Month?

 

I always thought T.S. Eliot was referring to the fact that taxes were due in April.  Yes, I was way off.  Although April is cruel for the 15th looms large.  (And instills, if not fear, anxiety, in my heart.)

This year April seems to be particularly "cruel."  We've had spurts of warm weather only to be crushed by cold.  But that alone is not what makes this period of time difficult for me.  April is a reminder that my parents are no longer with me.

For me it actually starts in March.  "March Madness" was one of my dad's favorite times of the year.  Once retired, he barely budge from his chair, watching game after game.  Basketball was probably his favorite sport.  He played it in high school.  I think he was disappointed that his son was not interested.  He supported the Bucknell (men’s) basketball team.  (He didn't go to Bucknell, my mother did, but to the uninformed you would have thought he did.  He was such a staunch supporter.)  And so when I hear news about the sweet sixteen, elite eight and/or final four, my thoughts immediately go to my father.

As we approach Easter (which can be in March or April), whenever I go to the grocery store, I (subconsciously) seek out hot crossed buns.  Not for myself (allergies prevent me from eating them), but for my father, who ADORED them.  He was particularly fond of Entenmann's.  But if they couldn't be found, he'd "settle" for the store brand.  When I came across them several weeks ago, I took a photo and immediately sent it to my son.  I told him I would get some for him when he came home for spring break. He was definitely into it.  It's something he and his grandfather shared.  So whenever he is home on spring break (when they are available), I'll be buying them with a slight sense of sadness.

However, April isn't all about my father.  It's also about my mother.  Spring 2022 would be the last time my mother was really healthy.  We went down to celebrate Easter a day early.  My mother and my son shared a love of Cadbury eggs.  (He recently texted me that he had one and thought of her.  I had already purchased a couple for him that I will ship out to him along with some other treats as a "modified" Easter basket/box.)  I think the last photo of my son and my mother came from that day.  She was wearing a sweater with sailboats on it.  I'm wearing it today.  It's too big for me, but it was one of those things that I just couldn't get rid of and I pull it out to wear every once in a while.  (It's not a particularly warm sweater, so it's just right for a cool spring day.)

My mother was also a flower/plant person. She wasn't a gardener like my father, but she always had plants in the house and her home at the shore had flowers in the front and back yards.  The daffodils that are coming up in our yard, reminds me of the ones that came up in hers.  She had several orchids in the bay window at the shore.  If I recall correctly there were 5.  Two I gave away and three I kept.  Somehow those three have managed to stay alive.  (I do not have a green thumb.)  They now sit in my front window.  Miraculously, all three are in bloom.  I don't know what I am doing right.  Or maybe it has nothing to do with me.

Perhaps April isn't the cruelest month.  Instead is just might be the most wistful for me; full of memories and tinged with sadness.