Today is November 1^st 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 2^nd is for the adults. No matter. It’s November 1^st 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.