I heard the bells of St. Peters Basilica, and something inside me, something welled up, and spilt the banks of my eyes.

Walking down the sidewalk, tears streaming down my face and I have not one single clue why. Oh, sure, lovely thing the chiming of church bells, and weddings are happy occasions (as that’s why they were chiming).

 

Minute by minute, the first deaths of autumn loomed last week… by Saturday morning, with the whiff of change, of falls lingerings of hope, it escaped my notice. I guess. Yet, salty streamers down my cheeks none the less.

I’d just got off the bus, after an interview for a possible new job. A job I want so very much, for a company I respect. And I was hopeful, I am moving forward, I am finally seeing the light. After so long, after so many trips and falls, broken limbs, and days, upon days, upon days, of endless nothingness, that whiff of hope in the autumn breeze was finally tangible.

So whence came these tears, as down Richmond Row I waltzed; coffee in hand. Admiring the shops, the bustle, and yet, and yet… what was this?

Later that evening, while watching a documentary on the destruction of Sodom and Gomorra, it all became clear. As astrologists ran the numbers to determine the possible impact date of this reported astroid, as they travelled back in time to match the star patterns laid down in antiquity by some unknown hand on the clay tablet, their calculations came up with JUNE 29th, 3123BC – that was Tims birthday, tomorrow will be three years since he died.

O, fairy farts.

And that’s when all became clear.

That’s when I knew.

Yes Mom, I had completely forgotten. Amazing as that may sound, I had.

It all made sense. Grief had hidden itself behind the skirts of hope. It had allowed me that day to not wallow in sadness, but to actually feel the tendrils of change, of anticipation; as I had spent the day in intense interviews for a position I had coveted. This opportunity set before me was rare – to be a part of something new, something different. To be employed with a company I could actually respect and admire? Precious.

Strange is grief. So sudden. So unknowable. You can not prepare for it (and you know Mom, I have tried).

So transient, so hidden is grief, at times.

This life takes hold, and change entices you forward, all the while loss has imprinted itself onto our very soul; it will NOT be denied, much as one may try. Oh, and I have tried.

At one point last night, another revelation hit me broadside, born of grief, or hope? Who knows.

I fear disappointment. Lost within hope, well that terrifies me. I fear that longing for something, desirous of this THING, this JOB, this PLACE, and to not achieve, well, I fear that.

If nothing else Mom, this October finds me retrospective, yet actually moving forward too. These things I’ve wanted, but feared not having, and therefore I turn away. That’s not good.

Dang. These damn October days, you know, become a signpost for me. A string of days set aside, a time of year, when all that will be, and all that I have, all that has been ignored, all that I have worked for, lost, longed for, it all comes to a head.

Damn October.

And to finish off the month, the anniversary that started it all. O’Hallows Eve. After that night we lost you, I wandered for years in sadness. I raged at Lex my sadness, and she raged hers back at me. I wasn’t mad, I was so so very sad.

But I think it’s ok to rage against the dying of the light, as we should be honest with our loss, and look it square in the eye, and acknowledge its needs. I guess I just needed to be mad, to hide my sad. Atleast for a bit.
Damn October.

I do still love it, as did you, as did Tim too.

Still, damn October and its truths. Damn October and its beauty. Damn October and its smell, its whiff of change, of loss, of lingering hope, of what is yet to come.

Oh, Damn October.