Pollen is just about everywhere I look these days and so is grief. It seems that no matter where I turn, everything is layered with a fine yellow coating. It is on every car, the sidewalks, in the lake water. As I look out over the water to a stand of trees, one of them seemed to exhale a cloud of pollen just the other day. The yellow plume hung in the air and seemed to settle slowly, ever so slowly, down to the earth.
Many around me, myself included, are exhaling grief. It bubbles up in the most unlikely of places. In so many conversations, grief and sadness hover at or just below the surface. It wasn’t until the trifecta of tragedy struck close to home that I began to pay attention to the voice of grief and recognize how many of us are walking with her.