Earlier this month I found myself experiencing seemingly unexplainable muscle tension.
Except it wasn’t unexplainable. It was very familiar.
February is a bit of a heavy month for me (and this year I feel it’s been compounded by heart-shattering world events as well as those closer to home).
It’s a strange feeling, because on one hand it’s the time when we usually see the beginnings of spring (which in the Chinese lunar calendar begins in early February) – the season of rebirth.
But it’s a time I associate with death.
My mother died unexpectedly in February four years ago.
In 2020 just as the spring blossoms were appearing, I was consumed with fresh grief, death admin and funeral plans. When I looked up the nation was told we had to stay at home and the first Covid lockdown began.
The usual advice offered at times of bereavement like ‘get out and see friends’ wasn’t possible then.
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