When the Seasons Change and My Heart Remembers

The air is changing again. The light feels different.

And with it, something stirs inside me—grief, memory, longing.

Each season carries its own weight of missing.

Spring blooms without his laughter.

Summer shines without his warmth.

Autumn falls quiet, and winter seems to echo.

I think it’s because change reminds me of what doesn’t change—

that he isn’t here to grow with me, to see what I see,

to move forward through time the way I must.

The world keeps turning, and I keep walking,

but there are moments I still want to stop and look back.

Sometimes, the turning of seasons feels like betrayal—

how can the earth keep going when his story stopped?

Other times, it feels like a whisper of comfort—

proof that life continues, even through the deepest loss.

So when the air cools or warms again,

I try to pause. I close my eyes and imagine he’s part of it—

in the sun on my face, in the wind that brushes past,

in the gold light that stretches across the sky.

Maybe that’s what love becomes after loss—

the quiet way they stay, woven into everything that changes.

A Gentle Reflection:

What season brings you closest to someone you miss?

Do you feel their presence in the shifting light, in the sound of leaves, in the stillness of snow?

How might you honor them in the season you’re in now?