The sun rises later every day as October unfolds itself into the imminence of winter. I can’t help but watch all the ways in which the darkness stretches, how some kinds of darkness are elusive, others you can touch and feel deep inside you. But it is fleeting, and like the darkness, I am fleeting, uncertain, trapped beneath the weight of grief. It is as it should be.
On October 7, my father took his last breath. The sky was overcome with a clamor so quiet, my own breath felt like an intrusion. His death was a devastation wrapped so peacefully, so gently, in the hands of my sister and myself, as we comforted him through his final rite of passage. I am aching but feel no regret. I miss him but find myself smiling, laughing, remembering how lucky we were to be friends, to be father and daughter. He taught me how to fall through the process of breaking, gave me poetry to cushion the fall and music as an elixir.
I welcome these darkening mornings, this looking glass into the bones of winter. It is my time to remember, to realize that in the rhythm of my heart, my father lives. I welcome the sadness, the reflection. I miss him. It is as it should be.