in my arms you are buried.

my beloved dead come close to me in this season. it is a new experience for me. last year i had only nameless ancient ancestors. this year, the dead.

autumn has always been my favorite season. the leaves all blood and bronze, the sky sheltering soft and damp, the air scented with life in this dying season. after the hard flat skies of summer, autumn has always been a time of utter exhilaration. but this year, you see. this year, the bright leaves falling in my path are leaves he never saw. the grey sky is the one i travelled under to go to him. this air, the last he breathed.

and the music i still listen to -- the soundtrack of those trips, the security blanket of those sleepless nights -- sings again of fear and disbelief. and each song calls out the memory. see, here is where you believed he could pull through. see, here is where you sat beside him and held his hand -- had you done that since you were a child, i wonder? -- and said nothing. see, here is where food turned to stones in your mouth. see, here is where you grieved without acknowledging that you were grieving.

oh yes. he is close by. i feel him and i ask: why didn't i miss you when you were alive?

it's autumn, glorious autumn, brightly burning autumn. can you see me, walking alone under the trees? my bones are showing. my heart is flayed by the scourge i lay on it. but at least i have my beloved dead. you can take everything else from me, but i hold him close, now.

now that it's too late.