Isn’t it odd that as a leaf dies during the change of seasons its colors are the most beautiful and vibrant at that point and then they’re gone?

I was sitting on my front porch bench this afternoon. After we did the breakfast and the clean up and the homeschool and the 8 diaper changes, 2 extra sets of teeth brushed on top of my own, 3 nursing sessions. One baby down for what would become a 3 hour nap, and one getting some vitamin D in the stroller in front of me as I mindlessly rocked the base of it with my foot.

And then I looked to the sky. So blue today. And then, I saw the most beautiful red and coral leaves on the top of a tree I wish I knew the name of. I suppose the name is irrelevant, but the tree’s lesson was anything but. If I had taken a picture of the moment, and then, if pictures could smell, the moment smelled hot like summer with that underlying wetness of a recent rain. Mixed with a little fresh driveway sealant, and the crispness of the shade in September.

And that’s when it struck me. Leaves are so beautiful this time of year. Gorgeous colors most trees never possess until the very leaves on their limbs are dying. These beautiful leaves are essentially taking their last breaths. Something so ugly, in human form, is so beautiful in nature. And that’s when I reflected on my own journey through loss, and then depression, and then acceptance, and how I’m learning to live a legacy.

My mother, my sweet and beloved mother. The one who would have absolutely ADORED dressing my baby girl up in clothes I myself can’t afford. The one who would swoop in when I’m at my lowest point and take my kids for the night. The one who would know all of this, before I even knew I needed her, would then come in, kiss me through my hair and tell me how beautiful I am and how proud she is of me. My mother, was like these leaves.

I swear my mother was more beautiful on her death bed than she was for the last 5 years before she left me. Psoriasis covered her body and she wasn’t the same woman she always was in those last few years. Her eyes told a story that the leaves tell. I heard these beautiful stories about my mother, full of life and color. Her friends shared so many things with me, that I still treasure, into this very moment in time. My mother’s death was ugly. I still remember how ugly it was. But today, when I felt hope in looking to the leaves to make her absence hurt a little less, it helped. Because right before you die, your colors burn through everyone you touch. Your light hits the high points, but the shadows tell a colder story still. And in the midst of the seasons changing, and my own depression sneaking back into the deepest darkest corners of my heart, I am reminded of love. I am reminded of my mother. I am reminded to live like her, letting my colors blaze as bright as the firey leaves, and letting my light change everything it touches. I am reminded to walk in the warmth. To speak warmth, attach to warmth and be the warmth. The changing of weather and sunshine dosage and saying so long to summertime always gets me. And a little bit more since she’s been gone. So here is my gentle and friendly reminder to check on the light in your life. Check on your strong friend. Reach out. Spend the money, call your friend. Make the time to be someone’s sunshine in the shade of a cold September day 💛