It’s here, and right on time. Fall. Schoolbooks packed into bags, lunches made and forgotten on tables, arms and legs saying their goodbyes to summer sun. When the air begins to lighten, and our breath begins to show, our thoughts turn to sweaters, family dinners and cool, dark nights.
In recent years, Fall, for me, has become less sweaters and more loss. It’s impossible to ignore the presence of death when it becomes the soundtrack of your life in the form of crunching leaves. These last few years have brought me a wealth of sadness at this time of year. From family spats to the death of a beloved grandfather and of an unlikely friend, this season makes my heart ache more than Christmas ever could. When everything signals the end, how could I ever turn my thoughts to anything else?
The quiet death of summer brings Fall colours into life, and all I see are the dark and empty spaces where people should be. And, well, if we’re being honest, we all know those are spaces can never be occupied by anyone else; they’ve been indefinitely reserved, some of the best seats in the house.
The anniversary of some great loss is never something you want to celebrate. Who wants to remember the day they lost their iPod? Who wants to remember their family’s last meal together? Who wants to remember the day the music died? The day he died? Or she died? I am an angry person, we all know this to be true. But I am, unfortunately, a ridiculously sensitive artiste that can’t get over the injustice of it all.
My feelings are embodied by a season and I can’t escape that. A family left in shambles. Two people wiped from the Earth, but not from my memories, a year and five days apart. And yet, on I go, saying and doing all my silly things. I have to, right? What else is there to do? The damage has been done, but there are people left behind still to love. And love them I’ve got to because that is what keeps me sane and that is what will see me through, one day to the next.
I miss you. I miss you both. And you make me ugly cry all the fucking time.