Seasons

“Be like a flower. Survive the rain, but use it to grow.” – Unknown

Three years ago, my friend Lorraine died, under unusual circumstances.

Those close to me know that I feel especially vulnerable in the month of August. I dread the weeks leading up to the anniversary date of her death. Those weeks are filled with emotion – mostly sorrow – as I inevitably reflect on a life cut too short. Lorraine was just 41 years young when she died.

Lorraine’s death affected me deeply. Things that I had once considered significant suddenly became inconsequential. Your perspective on life changes with loss.

For example, a large part of my free time is devoted to fitness activities. I’ve spent over 15 years participating in endurance sports – primarily marathon, but most recently triathlon. It’s through these activities that I’ve struck up some of my most meaningful friendships. In fact, that’s how I met Lorraine – through a running group in our neighbourhood.

Popular mementos of running races are finisher medals. I’ve never quite known what to do with these. Years ago, I put my first six marathon medals in a simple, rectangular shadow box on my bookshelf. At that time, I didn’t foresee how many more races I’d be doing in the future, so subsequent finisher medals piled up on the adjoining shelves.

Shortly after Lorraine’s death, I boxed up all of those medals. For a time, I had considered displaying these symbols of achievement on medal racks on my wall, along with a framed finish line photo or two. But after Lorraine’s death, the idea of creating a shrine to myself seemed silly.

Today, those medals are of little worth to me. When I die, they’ll end up in the trash because they’ll have no value to my loved ones. Experiences and time well spent with friends, on the other hand, are priceless. When we die, these moments will become treasured memories for those we leave behind.

For the last couple years, August has been a difficult month. Last year was especially so. In addition to the stresses brought on by the pandemic, my usual grief over Lorraine’s death was compounded by some unexpected and deep personal hurt. It was an incredibly painful stretch of time. Thankfully, dark clouds can’t linger forever.

Motivated by circumstance, I stepped outside of my comfort zone and was quickly reminded that the world is so much bigger than my little corner of it. I encountered some wonderfully kind and encouraging people who have helped infuse joy back into my running.

And over the past few months, I’ve come to accept that you have to let people go. As author Nishan Panwar wrote, “Everyone who is in your life is meant to be in your journey, but not all of them are meant to stay till the end.”

I will always grieve Lorraine’s death (grief is a souvenir of love, after all). But this year, the heaviness of that grief is outweighed by a renewed spirit, a sense of optimism, and the prospect of amazing adventures and new memories. I feel like I’m embarking on a new season in life. I think Lorraine would love that.