It’s the second October since you left.
Two birthdays. Two autumns. Almost two years.
The time you have been gone is a mere blip compared to the vacant space you left in my heart and the word on the street is the hole never goes away.
Wasn’t it just yesterday you were sitting on your Adirondack chair in front of your darling house on Halloween? I didn’t know then that would be our last.
Those are the things I think about sometimes. All of our lasts.
Our last walk.
Our last talk.
The last time you came to my house and the last time you left yours.
When I was little I thought you would live forever. I never worried about you. You were my steady. Later, I spent so many years worrying about you but I don’t worry anymore. I just miss you.
You were such a good mom. You did your best and loved the shit out of me. I felt it.
Now I know how much you must have missed Grandma. I had no idea what this all felt like until you left. Damn.
The waves of grief are powerful and when they roll in it hurts, but then they recede for a while.
Time really does heal. I know this pain won’t ever fully go away, but the space in between each wave seems to get farther and farther and I can take a breath and even think of you without crying, sometimes – then fall came.
The onset of this fall felt different for a change.
Now that you are gone, I live for fall again, only without you, but still in the very same way you taught me.
Pumpkin-flavored coffee is flowing on the regular. Did Dunk’n rebrand in heaven too?
Fall scented candles burn all day and well into the night with mums as big as your heart sitting on my stoop.
Thank goodness for little girls. Mia is the keeper of traditions, especially those that involve the celebration of the arrival of fall.
I still do all of the fall things too and with every step I think of you.