The summer has crawled then sprinted. Never cared for August – too hot, no routine.
When I was waxing poetic about September and its lovely relief from the heat of August, my friend told me that he always feels melancholy in the fall – the season of his dad’s death.
It is one thing to lose a parent when you are in your 50s or 60s, but quite another when you are a child, an almost-teenager and your dad slips away.
My friend immerses himself in football and friends…but the season remembers his loss, as a little boy – and the little boy – now a 50- something man - still grieves the dad who left too soon.
Do you have a season of grief? How do you cope?
(S-R archives photo)