Early Winter Moon: Twenty-Five Years, A Day Late, and Waiting For the Storm

Photo copyright Aji, 2018; all rights reserved.

I did something I've never done before, in a whole quarter-century. I forgot the significance of the date.

It was niggling at my brain all day yesterday; I've just been too sick, too stressed, and too cognitively impaired to figure out why. October 12th is a problematic day for structural reasons, but for me, it's always been the worst anniversary of them all.

And I spent yesterday distracting myself from our immediate crises, when I should have been remembering.

Kaye would be the last person in the world to blame me for it, and the first one to tell me that I did the right thing yesterday. None of that matters, of course. Twenty-five years: almost as many years without her as with her. And "with her" was relative. So much guilt.

I wrote a thing today, when everything finally barreled down on me and sucked me into the undertow. It's always there. After twenty-five years, though, other things are not always there, and I guess that's a good thing. Anger, rage, even, got me through it at the time, got me through so much, but it's unsustainable as a proposition for living. There's more than enough for the here and now.

Our family was always fractured; it could never have been otherwise. But her murder was the point at which the rupture became irrevocable. Oh, it would not be obvious at first, or even later; we would try and paper over it, at least some of us. But what happens in adulthood, how people come together or deliberately tear apart, that reveals the who and the what in ways that are not yet set in childhood. It was over for us before we ever started.

Now, I don't know if there's another person alive who remembers yesterday's date, remembers its significance. Cares. It may be that I'm all that's left.

I wrote a thing, and it's the way I always write the pain out of my system, at least to the minimal degree that's even possible: stream-of-consciousness, one draft, no edits or revisions, just putting down what's in my head and heart and abraded soul, raw and real. It's only available to patrons, but it's in the category that would normally be unavailable to all but the highest-level contributors; instead, any patron can read it, should you want to do so. You may very well not want to, and that's perfectly fine. But I had to get it out of my head.

October 13th, and the snow is nigh. Early winter moon: twenty-five years, a day late, and waiting for the storm.

Too many of my memories are cold, but those of Kaye herself? Her spirit was always warm.



All content, including photos and text, are copyright Aji, 2018; all rights reserved. Nothing herein may used or reproduced in any form without the express written permission of the owner.