Just this morning I awoke before my alarm and immediately thought about her.

Was it tendrils from a lingering dream? Was it that her sister was playing with her old stuffie just the day before? Was it the change in the air reminding me that summer is ending?

Autumn is historically a sad time for me. Even though I was born in October, I am truly a Summer baby. I love the longer days. I love the sounds of seagulls, ospreys, and loons. Summer sounds.

Fall is about change. About death.

And now, more than ever, it truly represents death.

Talia was born in the Spring and died in the Fall. Only 7 short months on this earth.

November 2019.

Long after the pretty colours of October fall to the ground. Long before the heavy snows of January make for fun on the trails.

Such an ugly month. Such an ugly memory.

Today, I awoke to a memory of her calling out from her crib. I entered her room and she immediately stopped crying. She looked up at me and smiled.

Her chubby hands opened and clenched. She reached for me.

I picked her up and she cooed in my arms.

Such life. Such love.

Her eyes locked on mine. She seemed to hold a secret. Some mystery.

Maybe she knew that she wasn’t long for this earth? Maybe she knew that this was one of the last times I would hold her?

On days like today, I just want to crawl back into bed. I want to close my eyes and close my heart to the pain of loss.

I don’t want the summer to end. I don’t want to enter the season that brought such profound sadness. I don’t want to flip the pages of my calendar.

I want to stay in Summer. A time of ice cream, dock parties, and late-evening walks. A time of sunshine and joy.

Grief speaks loudest in the changing of seasons.

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