Sometimes I don't know what to do with Groundhog Day. It's customary for people in the United States to pay attention to what a groundhog does on February 2nd. Whether he sees his shadow or not, coming out of his burrow, supposedly determines the timing of one of our most longed-for seasons. Namely, spring. Even though people joke about this old, Pennsylvania Dutch superstition, they continue to pretend there's true meteorological value in the custom.
I find myself thankful for Groundhog Day though for a different reason. It's a reminder of an important date, but most of all, an important man who I spent most of my life with. My husband, Dean, passed away on this colorful, memorable day in 2018, six years ago now.
It's not a day for me to celebrate, but certainly an opportunity to commemorate and cherish the best of memories about someone who had such an impact on my life.
Having just finished reading the book, "Man's Search for Meaning", by Viktor E. Frankl, I recognize instantly that although my life, before and after the caregiving years, wasn't perfect with Dean, he truly gave my life purpose and meaning, and for that I will always be thankful. God knew what He was doing, after all, in bringing our lives together.
