For the First Time Ever

There are two things in life that I have been unable to find a logical, spiritual, or religious explanation for.

1). Each time a baby is born or a birth is expected, someone close to the baby passes.

2). Elderly people often pass in the late fall or winter.

Allow me to explain.

When my brother was born, we unexpectedly lost my paternal grandfather. Just after the birth of my son, one of my dad’s dearest friends passed away. My cousin lost her grandmother shortly after her daughter was born. A friend of mine lost her grandfather immediately after her youngest son was born. My great-grandfather passed mere days before the birth of my sister. If allowed more time, I could probably find more examples or remember more times this has happened in my own life. Is it merely a coincidence? Or is there something more to it? I’ve never understood it, but it’s something that I’ve found to be true, over and over again.

To corroborate my second point, I can recall several people who have passed in the winter that were approaching “their time”. Several were elderly church members, family members, and long-time family friends.

As I prepare for the summer to end and fall to begin, I can’t help but wonder if my elderly loved ones passed in the fall and winter because those particular seasons are generally depressing. Winter does symbolize death, after all. If we remove the celebrations and festivals, what we objectively see is the transition from life into death and what it brings. All across the land, we peer out into the cold, outside world and behold barren trees, muted, dormant grass, and dead vegetation. The birds escape this season by flying south for the winter, leaving us behind to observe the quiet mornings that are absent of birdsong.

I used to thoroughly enjoy both seasons, fall and winter. The autumn was filled with marching band, haunted houses, Harvest Homecoming, Huber’s, and Thanksgiving. The beginning of winter was filled with the excitement of Christmas and the prayers for snow. However, even in my childhood I briefly felt that depressed state, just after Christmas but before spring.

As I’ve grown older, the depressed state that I felt as a child has grown. For the first time ever, I dread the changing of the season. Sure, I still plan to hold on to tradition, and I’m sure I’ll feel excitement and happiness in those moments. However, the things that I normally look forward to don’t hold that same excitement or magical feeling that they used to. For example, I have always loved going to Cornucopia Farms and picking pumpkins and buying mums. Even so, this year I can’t help but think about the eventual rotting of the pumpkins and the slow death of the mums. I can’t help but wonder if this feeling is because I’m slowly approaching the “fall” of my own life.