September mo(u)rn

We always have pals we haven’t seen in a long time because we split up to pursue our various aspirations, dreams for our families and loved ones. Despite the distance and absence, we always manage to keep each other up to date. It’s impossible to convey how excited we were to see each other after a virtual meeting.

We want to remember about happy times, such as Neil Diamond’s song September Morn. This song is about a couple who has rekindled their relationship after a long separation. Diamond sings about the feeling he had as they danced until sunrise, a feeling he still has on certain September mornings. They’ve grown apart, but not to the point where they can’t recall the good times - at least, that’s what he hopes.

We mourn the deaths of our daughters, sons, mothers, and fathers. And it’s made worse by the fact that we haven’t seen them in a long time and have never told them how fortunate they are to have us back in their lives. And we could have spent more time with them to express our gratitude.

We could have reminisced about how we used to dance to our favorite dance hits, and even done it again. And we’re hoping that our bodies will comply with our eager spirits. We could have recalled some of our favorite crushes and longing stories again and over. Wishful thinking, to say the least.

Grief is not a mental illness, a disease, or a symptom of immaturity. The price we pay for love is an emotional, bodily, and spiritual imperative. Grief can only be cured by grieving. And we must leave something behind when our time comes. A child, a book, an artwork, a house, or a wall constructed from a pair of shoes. Or a garden that has been planted.

Something that our hand touches in some manner, so that when we die, our soul has a place to

go, and when people look at the tree or flower we planted, they can see us. When someone we

care about is reduced to a memory, that memory becomes a treasure.

As a gesture of sorrow, we cry when our loved ones pass away. Tears are spiritual in nature. They are a symbol of strength rather than weakness. They speak with the eloquence of a thousand tongues put together. They are bearers of indescribable agony, profound repentance, and limitless love. However, we do not lament their passing because their time on earth has come to an end; rather, we rejoice because we have memories to remember and keep. The melody continues to play, as if it were a song that had ended.

We don’t lose someone we love all at once when someone die unexpectedly; we lose her in parts over time, just as the mail stops coming and her perfume disappears from the pillows and even the stuff in her wardrobe and drawers. We slowly piece together the bits of her that have departed. Just when we think she’s gone for good because of a single lost component, another day arrives with yet another specific missing part.