33…that’s the number of years I have lived without you. Well, I’ve kind of always lived without you. That’s what’s so sad.

I think this is my yearly fall post about grief. I keep learning new stuff. Or maybe it’s old stuff I keep relearning. If you don’t remember – and why would you? You have your OWN stuff to think about – October 5th, 1982 Monica Ann Ekblad was born. and died. Sucky, huh?

There are all SORTS of amazing things about that day, the following months and years. One of the amazing things is that I have made it just fine without her. Without holding her, raising her, crying and laughing with her. I mostly don’t even miss it. Because it isn’t happening. There are other things – the rest of my life.

But this ONE WEEK. One week before October 5th. The week that seriously f*ing sneaks up on me. EVERY YEAR. I plan for it; try to keep that day clear. I miss traffic signs. Forget important details and fall behind on projects. But it’s the week BEFORE that I am forever relearning. The smell of fall. I love fall. The brisk October air. The little chill that is easily fixed by a cozy sweatshirt or blanket. Color in your cheeks.

Perhaps this is why it’s always a surprise. How can you so totally love this time of year and still have a little hole in your life. It seems so innocuous. But little holes are black. And black holes suck everything around them in. And what’s left is void. Even when the air is brisk and there’s color in your cheeks.

I just read a really good article on grief and rather than rewrite it, I will just let you read it for yourself.



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