MayDay

For the past two nights, Herself has had dreams about her former colleagues and her old job. The dreams were as vivid as they were mundane:  she saw herself in the office building, walking down the hall and entering the doorways of their offices; they talked about routine work-related topics.  It was a comforting sense of belonging and camaraderie. And then, she woke up. The realization that it has been nearly a year since the transition weighed heavily on her, and her slumbering grief awoke as well.
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May is a month of change: flowers in bloom, trees sprouting, new birds and bees and life everywhere. For Herself, though, May is the herald of endings, especially the end of the school year, which has always been difficult for her.  May is the time of a thousand small griefs: reminders of losses large and small, changes and deaths and movings on. Like Harry Potter needing to face the reality of another summer with the Dursleys, she must steel herself for what is to come. What is it? Why is it so difficult?

Why does grief flower with the ocotillo?