Halloween
October 31 is the ultimate contrast of joy and sorrow for this month.
1997—Stephen’s first Halloween. Nick excited to see his grandparents.
Nick’s favorite holiday. He could become whatever character moved him at the moment and completely embrace the role. We loved dressing up from our costume bin and going door-to-door saying hi to the neighbors.
Both boys were thrilled with the school parades.
Possibilities
Imagination
Connection to what lies beyond what we see.
According to Celtic tradition, October 31-November 1 is Samhain. The time between times when the veil between the worlds is the thinnest and loved ones can visit.
Friday, October 31 was the day we held Nick’s funeral. His school choir sang Hallelujah by Leonard Cohen. I came home and couldn’t stop shaking. Reality closing in on me.
Thankfully my family surrounded me with love and costumes.
The boys’ cousins dressed up and helped Stephen select his costume. I don’t remember what it was. For that night we could do something normal. In addition, we needed to honor the young teen who loved this holiday.
I remember walking with my sister, Michele, and my sister-in-law, Doreen. The kids ran ahead. Someone next to us pointed to my house and said that they just buried their child. How could they be out celebrating Halloween?
I wanted to hit him. My shaking had turned to rage. Doreen touched my arm. She was right. He didn’t understand. He didn’t realize that we needed to know life could move forward.
That we needed a distraction.
That we hoped we could survive this.
That we needed to connect with the spirit of my son in order to know he was alright.
I walked a little further but had to run home. My body could no longer hold in the pain and I was sick.
Later that night, I stared up at the full moon and wondered how I could live in this world when my son was somewhere out there.
Every Halloween I cut an apple in half around the middle where a star shines. I place it outside with a burning candle and which for Nick to give me a sign that he’s popping through. We are closest at midnight.
