On this spring day, 60 years ago, Tris was born. This is our third birthday without him.

I recently read a blog by a young widow who wrote about entering her “sad season,” anticipating her late partner’s birthday, and soon after, his death day. With eloquence, she described how she’s learned to expect to feel a greater sense of loss and grief this time of year.

The phrase “sad season” seems apt. As winter fades away and we move towards spring, I recognize something similar: the surges of sadness are more predictable.

There are reminders in every season, every month. Jan brings a new year without him. He proposed one past Feb. Our daughter was born in Mar; Tris was born in Apr. We celebrated Mother’s Day each May. We celebrated our wedding anniversary and Father’s Day each June. We vacationed each July. I was born in Aug, now also the month when Tris died. Each Sept brought a new school year, school photo, school parent night. Oct brings Halloween, the day in 1999 when I first told Tris that I loved him. Nov brings Thanksgiving. Each Dec, we celebrated my stepson’s birthday, Hanukah, and Christmas.

Every season is bittersweet. In every season, the sadness that began at the end of our shared life mixes with the joyful memories of our shared love.

As time moves us forward, around the sun again and again, we consistently face reminders of seasons past. Again and again, I’m chilled by loss. Again and again, I’m grateful when the sun emerges, bright and warm. The seasons are like grief, but also like love: endless and everlasting.