September

 The oak tree in the backyard is finally turning yellow. I'm always reminded of these photos I took with Andrew and Nadia when the tree was fully yellow. He was teasing her. There was a moment where they stood barefoot, side by side against the huge trunk with outspread yellow arms. They looked so cute. It's a sweet memory in my mind.  A spontaneous moment. 

I know someone else whose son has died. The death hit me hard. Usually I'm calm hearing about the loss of children but this opened up this dark place in my heart. I fully felt that familiar pain for the first time in a while. A part of it was about the season.

I realized a couple years ago how hard September is for me. It's all about the scars... I know there were some bad September's in Andrews life which I won't detail here. The scars hurt in September; an aching pain about all the lost opportunities, the pain and suffering he endured in some Septembers. Me watching, worrying and trying to help. I question my choices less but I still do it. I remind myself he loved starting school, sports, seeing friends for most of his life, too.  

I fought this insight because I used to love September, love Fall. I'm hoping I'll have some September goodness at some point in the future. Here we are in October. I'm appreciating the beauty of fall again. I know Fall gets married with loss; the name Fall, the leaves falling. The color, to me, seems a reminder to bloom. To stretch yourself fully even as you know you will die. To think about hope and faith in a future; looking forward and enjoying this transformation now. 

Anyway, the pain has passed a bit. In psychotherapy, it's called an anniversary reaction. A way the body and spirit know without the mind having the first acknowledgement. It's inner knowing. I am a big believer. I have seen it, felt it. Intuition is powerful and underused. I'm trying to use mine as much as I can. It's a gift, I believe.