V.S. Quinnell

May used to be just a month — another turn of the calendar, a time when spring days would come and go. But now, it holds a complexity I never anticipated. This May, I carry the weight of deep loss and the brightness of new life, all colliding in one time of year.

It’s been almost a year that my dad passed. A man who taught me so much about the importance of hard work and the love of his family. I lost my best friend in 2022 today is her birthday. She was my confidant, my laughter through tears, and the one who always knew just what to say or not say at all. Even still the grief has been like waves — some days calm, others crashing unexpectedly.

And yet, in the middle of all this pain, life reminded me that it still has beauty to offer.

So, I will celebrate my granddaughter’s birthday. Six years of her light, her smiles, and her questions that I know she asks her Dad which makes me pause, wonder and laugh.

From the moment I held her for the first time, I then understood the meaning of bliss. Celebrating her birthday is healing in its own quiet way — not because it erased the pain, but because it reminded me that love doesn’t end. It evolves.

Watching her blow out her candles, I thought of my dad. I thought of my best friend. And I realized — they are part of this too. In my granddaughter’s eyes, in her fearless laugh, in the love we continue to share as a family. Grief and joy coexist more than we like to admit. This month, they lived side by side in my heart.

So I honor them all. I cry. I celebrate. I light a candle and watch a six-year-old make a wish.

Because life, for all its heartbreak, keeps going — and sometimes, it brings you reasons to smile even as you mourn.