"Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls, the most massive characters are seared with scars." Edwin H. Chapin
In as much as I love fall.. October is a hard month for me. It's no secret that I carry a lot of baggage with me. I've tried to be rid of it, but some things stay with you forever. Each year as I enjoy the glow of the season, and the brilliant colors that mother nature sends.. my soul gets a little dark and heavy. I teeter between a deep rooted sadness, and an anger that ever delicately simmers below the surface. Depending on what other things are going on in my life, depends on which mood graces the people I am surrounded with.
Since the kids are older and I've been working at school.. October is usually a hectic month. Testing. Soccer. Fundraising. The kick off to holiday mayhem and craziness. Different times of the month have different baggage looming around them, so pretty much we run the spectrum all month long. October also brings nightmares. That we've whittled the nightmares down to about one month, to me, is a huge thing. Used to be year round.. used to be every night. Now it's only now and again. Time heals all wounds... but the scars. Oh the scars.
The beginning of the month brings the anniversary of my friend's death. It was originally thought that she had taken her own life. And I was so mad at her. At the time I was mad at myself for being angry instead of sad.. but I was both. Devastated would be a better word. Turns out she had a brain aneurysm. But I was still mad. She was young. She had her whole life ahead of her. It has been a hard time for her, but she was turning it around and things were better. And then she was gone. And what I didn't realize then either.. I was angry that I never got to say goodbye.
I came home from work, and was given the news of her passing. I got back in my car, and drove to the gas station to buy a pack or two of cigs. I tell you that I remember nothing of that drive. I must've been in shock. It's a miracle no one else died that day. Somehow I made it home. I went up to my room, wrote her a letter.. telling her how hurt and angry I was, sealed it up and fell asleep on my bed crying. I carried that letter in my belongings for 13 years. Every once in a while, I would come across it, read it, and be taken back to that awful day. This spring when I found it, after reading I destroyed it. I realized that by carrying around that letter I hadn't really let her go. It was time. I was finally ready.
Yet here we are... just days away from the anniversary of the day she died.. and my heart has been sad. But age and experience and time put a different spin on moods and memories. And I am also able to look back on the good times we had together and smile. So long my friend... you are gone but not forgotten.