Writing Pieces

Remembering December.

By December 4, 2020December 17th, 20209 Comments

My daughter phones me.

It is the first of December.

“I couldn’t sleep last night”, she tells me.  “I think my body knows what time of year it is.”

She is right. I feel it too.

You see it in the trees.  They are grey now.  Wooden totems.  Fading into silent concert with the barren bushes surrounding them.

The leaves have all fallen.  Shoved to the roadside.  Brown.  Not orange.

The grass is stubby.  A confusion of roots and weeds and mud.

The sun will set just after four.

We lost him in December.  Her brother.  My son.

Time has softened the immediacy of this pain.

But our bodies stiffen with the familiarity of this setting.

A familiarity that lives in our souls.

The greyness.

The knowledge that something magnificent is over.  Like the blazing red of the sugar maples.  Searing yellow of the aspens.  Clear-eyed strength of the steel blue autumn sky.

Somehow his soaring comet veered.  And before our eyes followed a path we cannot see.  Or understand.

It is December.

We silently remember.

Remembering December
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Remembering December.
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Join the discussion 9 Comments

  • Anita says:

    Beautiful piece Mary! Sending so much love to you now! ❤️❤️

  • 720p izle says:

    I quite like looking through a post that will make people think. Also, thanks for allowing me to comment. Joanne Rodolph Landmeier

  • Peter Curran says:

    Will raise a glass to Sam tonight Mary, love Peter and Quin

  • Stefanie says:

    Very beautiful dearest Mary. He is a star up there shining. Peace be with you. Thank you for you sensitivity for all things great and small.

  • Debbie Harper says:

    painfully beautiful mary…i love you

  • Stephanie Freid-Perenchio says:

    Beautiful Mary. Love & Miss you xoxox

  • Nancy Casteras says:

    A very touching piece Mary. Your writing is so gentle and caring at what must be a heartbreaking time for you and Lily. We think of you often and miss you. 💕

  • Sandy Mayer says:

    Beautiful piece, Mary. We never really fully recover from our grieving. I’m not a spiritual person but, as they say in the religion I grew up in, “May his memory be a blessing”. By your memories, his candle burns bright.
    Love to you all during this dark time of year.

  • Kelley says:

    This is such a painfully honest and beautiful piece of writing. Thank you, Mary for sharing it with all of us. Holding you and Lily extra close to my heart this month. love you…xx

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