for_ariane (for_ariane) wrote,
for_ariane
for_ariane

autumn

Of necessity, this journal is about me as much as it is about Ariane...

Autumn has always been my favorite season -- the cool relief after summer heat, the rare but perfect New England days with their crystalline air, lapis skies, and that golden slant of light spreading like grace over everything it touches. As I get older, the autumn resonates more profoundly with my own stage of life. In the galenic system, the humor of the season is melancholy -- it is cold and dry. As so it has indelibly become. I am more likely to awake from my dreams with my heart so full of grief it feels like it would stop. Sometimes a profile caught on the street, a way of walking, a toss of the head will remind me of her and I will be forced to stop until I can pick up and go on as I was. I find myself replaying the last few months that Ariane was with me in my mind. Being a gardener, I am acutely aware of the cyclic nature of time, and this has become as woven into the cycle as picking the last roses or mulching for winter. And yet in spite of their cycles, no season is ever the same one, the arrow of time flies only in one direction. The moments missed will not return, the things unsaid will never be said, the things that should never have been said cannot be recalled. Life does not always give you a second chance. I know now why people hope for granchildren -- another chance to brave the cycle more purely, more wise, more hopefully...

I do indeed have a second life with a loving spouse, and I do not want to disparage the joy I feel in it. When the well of grief runs over I do not want it to drown the love I have now -- a love that cannot redeem the loss no matter how it tries. We have learned the hard way to accomodate this cycle, to honor the loss, to observe our little rituals, to tie our prayers to the trees together, to make our pilgrimages together, to stand together in the dark and the rain, appealing to somone full of grace...
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