Dear Son – Fall is Here

Dear Son,
The fall is here, the year is coming to an end. Again Halloween butts right up against Christmas for the retailers and before they can liquidate the Halloween candy Christmas trees are crowding the isles. Time intermittently speeds up and slows down.
I keep having big grief attacks. They are very unpredictable. I’m not afraid of them or embarrassed by them. It is like there is always a subscript running in the background. When you were living and I saw something that reminded me of you or something you would like I would chart it to tell you about it or procure whatever it was for you later. A song, a story, a poem, the stature of a young man sets me off and the tears follow. I think I am becoming a fountain of sorts or maybe a stream. The reality of what is flows through me all day, every day and sometimes it just floods.
When it comes to finding things that make me think of you I realize I do that for your sister too, but there is a much more organic nature to that – since she is here and I get to see her and talk to her. I love to find clothes and books and songs – share foods and places with her. But she is busy and her time is limited with me now.
Seeing the things, hearing the songs, reading a poem I want to share with you – I feel deprived of your reaction. In truth you might not like what I present. Indeed you might make fun of it or turn it on its ear to make me look at it a different way. I’ll never forget how disillusioned I felt when you told me about “auto tune” and all the artists who used it. I really thought those people could sing that flawlessly and easily.
The world does not know what is missing with you not being here.
Your sister is doing very well, working hard, growing. The strength I see in her reminds me of you. You share so many similarities especially in your gentle hearted nature. She is your age so I watch her – thinking how you were coming into your own at the age of 29. And yet she is utterly unique and amazing and strong in ways I could never be. So I try and learn from her too, as I did from you.
I am taking an online poetry course through a place called edX. I dread when the course ends. Sometimes reading the poems and hearing and reading the commentaries I wish that both you and your sister could be taking it with me. She doesn’t have time. You are not here.
It makes me want to read “A Pilgrim at Tinker Creek” again. Not necessarily for the stories but for the flow of the words and the prose.
I admonished a young parent to be patient with their growing child, to not hurry. I admonished a good friend to be patient with her grandchild because again these precious times would pass so quickly. It is hard to be in the moment when responsibility seems to overshadow it. Business can be a real enemy to building relations.
Thank you for all the time we had together. You didn’t have to do that – I know, but you allowed me into some very special places. They were wonderful gifts.
When you sister has time, or when she has no time but can be just in the same room I try to stop my self from smothering her. I want to hear everything, what she is thinking and how she is feeling. It is all I can do sometimes to keep myself from sitting right up beside her like her/your dog Sadie.
I know I used to complain about how you sat all over me and draped yourself around me. I didn’t mean it. I loved it.
Your sister is going to do wonderful things – size and scope do not matter – the quality of what she does speaks for itself. You did wonderful things. The world really doesn’t know what it is missing.
I do.


About pathfinder

Artist, Writer, Walking wounded.
This entry was posted in Coping with the Death of a Child, Death, Family, Friends, Holidays and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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