Remember to look for the daffodils.

 

In grief my love,

look for the daffodils.

It may not be actual daffodils of course.

It might in fact be the sunrise outside your window as you draw back the curtains one morning.

It might be the decision to draw back the curtains at all, after weeks of being comforted by the dark.

It might be walking past their photo and smiling instead of crying;

or picking up that empty mug on the coffee table that hasn’t been moved since they left.

It might be a message from a friend that you now feel ready to answer; and it might be that meal you cook for yourself after days of surviving on not very much at all.

Because in the winter of grief,

these are all signs of spring; they are the beacons of hope that perhaps there are lighter days to come. Days that are a little less harsh. Less dark. Less bleak.

Winter always comes back of course, and so there will be times when the darkness returns: when you find solace in the closed curtains and in the empty mugs.

But each time,

remember to hold on to hope. To the signs of spring.

Remember to look for the daffodils.

*****

I've been seeing the daffodils spring to life round me recently, and I've been reminded of this poem.

Becky Hemsley 2025

Beautiful artwork by Aimee Ruoff Art

This is from my second grief and loss collection.

Source: Becky Hemsley Poetry on Facebook

***** ***** ***** *****

It may not even be actual daffodils…

But something about them carries a quiet kind of magic. The kind that gently pulls you back into moments you didn’t realize you’d tucked away so carefully.

This poem by Becky Hemsley hit me differently today — maybe because this time of year always does. There’s something about those in-between days… when Spring tiptoes in just enough to be noticed, then slips away behind a nippy breeze.

I can feel it though — that shift.

I am a better version of myself when the sun lingers a little longer, when the air softens, when the first blooms start to appear. When the world feels like it’s waking up again.

The anticipation might be my favorite part — knowing what’s coming. Warm days. Open windows. Birds singing like they’ve been waiting all winter just to be heard.

And somewhere in all of that… the daffodils blooming again.

By me... My thoughts... polished by chatgpt.

It may not be actual daffodil's...

But they do have a strange magic that makes me reflect on memories of the past when I see them. This poem from Becky Hemsley hits differently. I am a better human when the sun is shining and the daffodils are blooming. When Spring is creeping in on select days and the contrast of nippy days like today increases anticipation for the warm Spring days and beautiful daffodils blooming, and the birds singing their hearts song.

********************************

I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud

By William Wordsworth

I wandered lonely as a cloud

That floats on high o'er vales and hills,

When all at once I saw a crowd,

A host, of golden daffodils;

Beside the lake, beneath the trees,

Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine

And twinkle on the milky way,

They stretched in never-ending line

Along the margin of a bay:

Ten thousand saw I at a glance,

Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they

Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:

A poet could not but be gay,

In such a jocund company:

I gazed—and gazed—but little thought

What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie

In vacant or in pensive mood,

They flash upon that inward eye

Which is the bliss of solitude;

And then my heart with pleasure fills,

And dances with the daffodils.

Source: Poetry Foundation