Now is the season of grief. An ordinary season lasts about 91 days. Look at the calendar and you can find the first day of spring, summer, fall, or winter. It's usually the 21st of the month and if you are picky, you can find out the exact astronomical minute for the onset of a new season. Not so, the Season of Grief. Who knows how long it will last? It's different for every bereaved person. It doesn't depend on where the Earth is in relation to the sun; it depends on the heart. For me, the Season of Grief comes at both predictable and unpredictable times. A song on the car radio while I'm driving to work can move me to tears. I can cry at the computer when I see an email that I think for one billionth of a second is from Him. Rounding the corner to home after a long school day, I see his silver truck and the heart cries out, "He's home!" but the mind says, "No, he will never come home." I know that I'll be sad during December because he always made me feel special at my birthday, and Christmas. He made me feel special every day of every season. This fifth season, the season of Grief has taken that away. It hurts.