I feel the poignant sadness that arises at this time each year as the weather gets cooler and my flowers die away. I’ve found myself out in the garden taking picture after picture.
This sadness isn’t special to autumn, though. Now that my parents have been on the planet for eight decades, the reality of loss is on my mind all the time.
My parents had the four of us before they turned thirty, and I’ve always thought of them as “young:” younger than my friends’ parents, “young for their age,” “young to have grandkids.” But now they are well past the age my grandparents were when, kissing them goodbye after a visit, I’d get sad wondering if this might be the last time I’d see them. [Read more…]