Compassion, Spring 2023

Spring 2023 - Compassion | tcf.org.uk 23 It’s going to take a long time is what you say when pressing the garlic cloves into the soil in early November: five inches down, sprout side up. But no matter how well one plants them— preferably six inches apart so they don’t compete for sunlight or water or space— it will still be a long time before green shoots come up. It’s the same thing, I think, as I sit by my husband and weep, as I’ve done nearly every day for over a year since our son died. No matter how well one grieves— whether the heart is cracked asphalt or a lush peony— it’s going to take a long time. A long time, perhaps forever. I tell myself, Go ahead, cry when you think of how he used to race to the car when you’d come home. As if I could stop myself. I cry because my body says cry. Because I remember the shape of his body crushed into mine. Because sometimes my heart is more dead bird than wing. Because some things we simply live into. Winter will come and freeze the dirt. Next spring, there will be green shoots. Late summer, we will pull thick bulbs from the earth. It's Going to Take a Long Time by Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer