Today is November 1st and the first day of the Day of the Dead. My reading gives me to understand that the first day is for the children to celebrate and that November 2nd is for the adults. No matter. It’s November 1st and I’m missing Doug.
A few months ago, I wrote of Doug’s slippers and how they lived under the chair in the master bedroom. I couldn’t bring myself to get rid of them as it seemed as if I did he would be well and truly gone. They’ve been there for more than two years now.
Today. Well, today, I threw them away. Yes. Threw them away. I didn’t want anyone else wearing them – they’re too personal and too important – we needed a clean break.
I had heard of the Day of the Dead but it was Doug who taught me to appreciate the holiday.
In the Mexican tradition, it’s a time to honor those that have gone before us. To remember and to respect and to love.
I miss Doug always, but, today, when the veil is thinner I have looked over my shoulder often to see if I can catch a glimpse of him. No luck so far.
I miss him. I would love one more glimpse. One more touch. One more moment.
I loved him. I do love him.