It’s happening now- I feel the change of seasons coming and realize that although time has stopped for me, this summer will not be an eternal one. The advertising world pushes us along- back to school started months ago, and their marketing through Christmas is all ready to go.
Yesterday, as our friend drove us to her home for dinner, she commented on how they had noticed the leaves on the trees starting to change colors already. Her daughter pointed them out- the spots of red and yellow- as we drove down the road.
Then, today, just now before my parents left, I heard my dad, who was looking at a book with Audrey, tell her that soon we’d be able to get a pumpkin. And then my mom said that we’d also go to the holiday train show at the Botanical Garden. I had wanted to go last year, but we never got around to it.
I snapped. “Please, we don’t have to think about Christmas yet! My God!”
I suppose for people in the regular world, seasons and holidays are something to look forward to. They seem to be, in many ways, what keeps people going. Especially if you’re working in a 9-5 job with no end in sight – it’s important to look towards something- a break maybe, a celebration. It’s a large part of the small talk we engage in. I always found it irritating though in the elevators of corporate buildings when people would say “Oh, this weather- it’s so hot!” and then the next season, “Oh, when will this cold end!” I know they’re just making conversation and all, but you’d think they’d be used to the fact that it’s hot in summer and cold in winter by now. The other thing that irritated me was the way everyone said “Happy New Year” as the official “office greeting” until about late February. OK, so the corporate world wasn’t for me.
But I get it, I really do- how the cyclical seasons help us move forward and give us hope for change.
But I don’t feel like moving forward right now- forward means alone, forward means further from my living love, forward means forgetting. It is way too soon and too raw for that. I prefer to stay here, in my “mystical grieving space,” as my therapist called it Friday morning on the phone, for a little while longer. The only plus I see about the impending change of seasons is something that I read on a widow board. Another young widow said that she preferred winter these days because it suited her grieving state better- the spring and summer were just too full of life she said.