Is it September already? I lose time in warm sweaters and falling leaves
. Time creeps up on me. I spoke with my brother today. I didn't realize it was his son's birthday. Zavier was born the day before the anniversary of my mother's death
. He died 6 days later: The day after my brother's birthday. I only got to see him once. His miniature hand held my finger. I touched his chest where all the wiring was wrong
. His tiny coffin
was laid to rest on top of my mother's. I fell to my knees over the earth that was dug up for him
. It has been so long since I have been back there. The town I grew up in. Too many ghosts
. If my car or my soul could make the journey, I would drive there now. Instead I write.
I try to pass this day off. Every year I think it will be fine. I think the tableaus won't haunt me. Invariably someone brings up cancer
and I weep like a child in my cubicle as quietly as I can. I hold on to these dates like razor sharp mementos
. They make me who I am. I reserve the right to mourn my loss. I try not to burden anyone with these memories too often, but the bite in Michigan's autumnal winds forces me to wax nostalgic
. I do beg your pardon if I seem a little disconnected today. I revel in celebrating my loss. Anthony
is still in hospital, so there is no one here to talk to. I shall find my empty bed
soon in hopes to dream of one less vacant.