Let November Go
My sweet H, what November has taken from us, I cannot forgive. November is a knife to the heart with all of it’s golden red beauty. It is an old friend turning a cold shoulder. It is betrayal itself, and how could I get over that.
Once, November was first fires and hot chocolate. The beginning of the holidays and family close and all together. My favorite season, always, just like everyone else. Once. Once, it was all of these things for me.
But November took you away and out of my reach.
November says no, no, you cannot go back, not at all, not even for a second. It doesn’t care if I beg or plead or bargain, it simply says no and grows even colder, turning its face away and becoming December.
January understands. January is gloomy and sad. It rains, and it feels like the rain is just for me. As if to say, yes, see how the world is worse without Henry. Good, I think. Good. It should be ugly outside.
But November’s beauty is a slap in the face. And I know it is coming, and will always come, every year. When it does, I hope I will let myself grow warm from the love of people who loved you. I will take that love and wrap it around my shoulders, feeling the comfort like a blanket.
I will eat all of the desserts and think of you, always trying to sneak extra sweets. I will think of the way you did your Henry dance and gushed, “Mommy, I love you, I really, really love you!” I will go on long walks and think of my happiest memories of you. I will, almost certainly, blog to excess.
I will hold you closer while I try to let some pain go. I will try to let November go.
