It was the snowdrops in the park that did it in the end.
That caused the tears.
You see I remembered the ones springing into life in my graveyard. The graveyard I walked through day after bleak day. The graveyard I walked through so many times the gravestones became as familiar as friends.
I remembered the snowdrops growing and mourning as I realised I would not seem them bloom. I felt the grief all over again. Of what I had left behind.
Caught up with the move, I had buried the emotions felt in those final days before I packed up my life again. Lost in amongst the excitement and opportunities of the new. But it was waiting.
Waiting for the snowdrops.