November, November—what can I say about November? It’s a grey time. Icy skies, chilled winds. My favorite part about this month is bundling up, that feeling of being justified in my scarves, hats, and gloves. These days I aim to embrace the full spectrum of each season, from blistering pavement to biting breezes. I want to feel them completely. There’s something fulfilling about putting on layers and feeling the cold air on my face and the tips of my fingers.
Still, these grey skies can be a bit heavy, creating little pockets of remembering. Sometimes I feel like my whole life has been about grieving—people, places, futures that no longer exist. One of my first memories is of grieving my old backyard when I was six.
I’ve said goodbye to every version of myself I could have been over the years—as we all do in one way or another. The me that learned multiple languages and traveled the world, the me that married right out of high school and had four kids, the me that died at eight and thirteen, the me that died at eighteen. I’ve mourned them and written to them and grieved for their loss. And ultimately, I’m grateful for them. I’m thankful for each person I’m not and each one I could still be.
Grief is not a bad thing. And even still, isn’t there so much hello in goodbye? Kiss one future farewell, and you turn into a new one, brimming with potential. After all, if there’s grief, there’s love, “What is grief, if not love persevering?” A character said that on a TV show, and I’ve been thinking about it ever since. That quote works for almost any type of love out there. I never thought such a raw sentiment would come from an AI-turned-humanoid entity in a superhero plotline, but hey, here we are.
As the holiday season begins, there’s an undeniable sense of loss in the air. Just like where there’s love there’s great grief; where there’s joy there’s great sorrow.
I’ll be doing my level best to lean into the joy part and remind myself of all the brightness in the grey. There may be blues upon blues upon blues up there, but somewhere, the sun is still burning blood-orange and golden.
Thank you for reading, and if you’re one of those people who feel those blues and greys closer than others, I hope you find the sun.
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