I get this way every year.  Every year since my Uncle Rick died.  I almost wrote passed away, and then I erased it.  Backspace, backspace, backspace.  

We sugar coat it by saying “passed away”.  He died.  And then we lost Daniel.  I get cranky, and emotional, and jittery.  Then I realize there must be some kind of post traumatic stress that is associated with it.  I don’t even realize it until the date creeps up on me.  Like last night, as I lay in bed with M facing me, both on our sides, and I was talking and huge, hot tears crept out of my eyes.  I found myself quickly apologizing, and then taking it back.  Because I shouldn’t.  But poor M, didn’t get any time with them.  He would have loved them.  Because I loved them so, and because they were amazing humans.  And I can’t keep apologizing and shoving my emotions back in.  

October is on of my favorite months.  It has been since I was little, and I guess now it holds a little bit of sadness for all of us.  

I was cranky yesterday.  Edgy.  I didn’t want to sit still.  But I didn’t want to move.  I was dreading next weekend, for more reasons than one, but I couldn’t put my finger on why I am so anxious about it.  And then again, the dates hit me in the face.  

I’m not good at processing it.  Even now.  My aunt Cathy weighs heavy on my mind.  My siblings, my mother, my grandfather, and Josh.  Uncle Rick would have loved this picture.  

I know they are all feeling the same thing too.  And others worse than I am.  

But then I remember, that at least we remember.  Those memories are seared in to the brain like a brand that lasts forever. 

For whatever the reason, I just didn’t process the loss like I should have.  It lingers.  I don’t just think about it in October.  There might not be a day that a handful of people don’t cross my mind.  It is a invisible thread that connects us all.  Even crossing the boundaries of life and death.  

I am sharing “October” again.  

I’ll be sitting at the cemetery later, I don’t go often, but once a year I make my rounds.  I know that isn’t where they are, but I guess I just need to do it.  


Please do not share or copy without prior permission.  

I sat with you today. 

For as long as the sun blazing its autumn colors would allow
me too. 

The time went by too quickly. 

And the tears made a slow way down my cheeks until the makeup
burned my eyes. 

It’s cold now. But today the sun allowed me

Or maybe it was you. Begging the Sun to let me stay until I
was able to breath again. 

Even the train failed to blow its usual loud call and slowed
his pace. 

As if silently as he could, recognizing I needed just a few

It wasn’t until the last few colors were leaving the sky
until I realized I was saying hello and goodbye yet again to
you, and now him. 

And that this is just a passing phase we have to make it

Maybe I’m jealous. Jealous that you get the others to
yourself. Those before us. Maybe I’m angry that we have to
let go of yet another. 

And when I look down at your grave. And prepare myself
for another goodbye I realize that if you begged the sun for
enough light and enough warmth to allow me another day to sit
here before the cold sets in. 

That you must miss us too.

Live, love.  



1 comment

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  1. Stephanie Harper

    Like you I hate the words “passed away”. Let us call a spade a spade they died. For me it's late winter into spring. I have days that I just can't even…as they say now. It seems like there was a period when we all saw each other at funerals way to often. I have such fond memories of fishing with Uncle Rick and picking on Daniel. I get it. I do it. I have moments, one creeping up as I write, that I am overwhelmed and have to just cry. I can't stop it and it bewilders the Hubster and often the son. I have times, 20 years later mind you, that I am crazed with guilt over the last conversation with Aunt Jackie, how angry I was with her for not “feeling” like she could attend my graduation: the selfish anger of an 18 year old that still burns in the back of my throat when I think of how shitty of a human I was that day. She died only days later. I still find it difficult and sometimes impossible to talk about my dad and I am useless on his days, so much so that I often have asked off of work so that I can stay home and wallow alone on his birthday or death day. In fact I am not ashamed to say that I cried reading your post and cried while commenting because I need to know that someone else still has those days too. Those days are like the bad words that old ladies whisper because to talk about them out loud isn't kosher. Each death in the succession of people in our lives that have died has taught us to love, cherish, live, and laugh harder than we did before. I ramble and will draw this to a close but I have those days too is what I wanted to say. I love you cuzfriend (see what I did there LOL)


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