The beginning is at hand

The beginning is at hand. Cool air sneaks in around the door with a twinge of sadness. The fall is always a time of sadness mingled with expectation. The fall is a time of promises made and promises harvested.  Tomorrow is Halloween. With Halloween begins the season of festivities.  This season is full.

Some seasons are seasons of singleness, times of going out. This season though is one of togetherness, times of gathering in warm safe places. Times of togetherness are times to remember those who are no longer with us.

My grandfather strides along the walls of my memory. Lately, I see him frequently. He is playing his guitar with one strand of hair falling down in his eye. He is sitting in his truck, cigarette dangling, hat cocked just so. He is walking across the pasture, jeans ruffled at the tops of his boots.

My nephew’s bright eyes dance along the walls of my memory. I work to remember the feel of his warm skin in my arms. His little fingers wrapped around mine as the much too old baby rocked and drank his bottle. His sly grin as he reached for the ornaments on the “no-no” tree. His joy as he reached deep into the bags to get his presents.

My grandmother sits in her chair. She is kind and makes a million pies that stretch through her backroom like a memory of a time gone long before we came.

My red headed Ukrainian daughter, who marveled at candy canes and requested crabs for Christmas, smiles at me from pictures on the computer.

They are all no longer here where I can see them and touch them. The season of remembrance and gathering together comes and I’m forced to confront the ghosts.  I miss them. I miss them and so many others.  This next few weeks will be fast. We will run from event to event and group to group.  We will sometimes embrace the cold and other times duck quickly out of the chilly wind.  We will thank God for our blessings. Somewhere during the nights we will hear that we have not done enough. We will hear that the to-do list should have been different than we made it. We will see expectations not met.

Over all of that though, we will feel the joy of being in the embrace of the ones we love. We will see the excitement of the children leaking and filling the hearts of those who almost forgot. We will hear the songs that remind us that death is not the end. Death has lost its victory because our Christ is born.  In the deep night when memories haunt us, we will know that soon we will see those we have lost. Soon, we will hold them once again.