Friday, October 30, 2015


Grief is a funny thing the way it rises out of nowhere and swamps your boat. Forty years ago my son Kevin was born. I was 29 years old. Today he would have been 40--if he had lived past age 9 when he died from a brain tumour.

Every year at this time I am blindsided by sadness. It seeps into the Hallowe'en experience and leaves me without energy or enthusiasm for anything. I don't like this season at all. Darkness, rain and soggy leaves mark the transition into the long tunnel that is winter.

Most years I just push on through the depression and try to find things to lift me out of it. But this year I'm succumbing. I'm spending the day tucked under the covers and reading an Anne Tyler novel and remembering the sweetness of the time I spent with my first little son. Tomorrow I can pick up the oars and start rowing again.


  1. I'm not a parent, but I know parents aren't supposed to bury their children. My parents buried two sons, my brother and his wife buried another son, and my sister-in-law buried one son.

  2. I understand your feelings, my baby Nicole die also. Sometimes the grief comes in a wave that engulfs you. I know mine does.
    But it seem the weather would also play a part in your feelings. The changing season and the fact winter is coming would make anyone a bit sad. Plus you just got back from a very long tiring trip.
    Hang some fairy lights, bake something in the oven and feel better soon.

    cheers, parsnip


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