I went to Arizona last week for a meeting. The desert sun in March was so beautiful – it was lovely to leave the freezing cold behind for temperatures in the 70s and 80s.
The meeting was great and I met a lot of interesting people. One afternoon I decided to spend some time sightseeing in town and then spent the late afternoon by the pool.
I found a reclining pool chair and took a seat, loving the feeling of the sun’s rays on my skin. I thought of Caroline because sitting in the warmth of the sun always reminds me of her.
As I reclined and closed my eyes, I soon heard a group that caused me to open them. There was a mom teaching her son how to swim. The boy was wearing floating sleeves and soon took his first strokes. I saw the pride on the mom’s face as this young boy made it across the pool.
That is when the tears started.
I will never teach Caroline how to swim. A silly thing to get upset over perhaps, but right in front of me was an experience we both have lost.
I soon made my way back to the hotel room so that I could let out the rest of my tears privately.
Grief follows you into paradise and sneaks up on you when you least expect it.