My husband died in June 2012. My sister died a few months before that. Six months ago, I decided to move back home, where I grew up — this would get me closer to family and undoubtedly, speed up the grieving process.

Really?

This just in: They are all gone. I can’t bring any of them back.

This has taken some time. And tears. Lots of tears. But this morning, finally, I woke with a sense of promise in my heart and a smile in my eyes as I considered the opportunities. So what is it that I want to share with you this morning?

I think it’s this: Grief takes time and tears are the tool. Don’t be afraid to cry. Don’t be afraid to acknowledge that things will never be the same. It is only then that you can see what lies ahead of you.

Finally, today, I was able to retrace the steps I used to walk as a child — and smile. And mean it. No regrets. Cross over the bridge that my sis and I used to stand on and throw rocks into the creek below. Past the old theater where twenty-five cents would get you in for a Saturday matinee. Past the grocery store where we would turn our soda bottles in for pennies, and then turn right around and buy tootsie rolls with our new-found loot.

It became crystal clear as I approached the flower market. “Hi!” I said, optimism dripping. “How many lilacs can I buy with $8.00?”

“None. You gotta buy a bunch and they’re $22.50.” He said, grimly, obviously not from these parts.

I stuffed my lousy $8.00 back in my pocket and continued my walk. As I rounded the curve, I turned back and stuck my tongue out at him. There! My sister would have been proud of that move. I laughed out loud.

Nope, things will never be the same, except for one thing: my heart. It is filled with happy memories that no one can take away and it is time to fill it with some new ones!

Happy Easter!