We were planning on cleaning up the garden, but James suggested we go for donuts and cider at a local orchard and who am I to suggest chores over sweet autumn treats?  From the gravel parking lot we could smell cinnamon and apples and as we approached the farm buildings, the crisp fall day was full of activity.  Pumpkins and mums decorated the area, local craft vendors had set up tents displaying their goods and creations and kids were in abundance running, laughing and riding in wagons. 

I’ve always loved fall; the way God paints the trees, the way the woods smell, the way the air feels crisp on the skin, and the apple, cinnamon and pumpkin flavors delight my taste buds.  We started at the bakery where we indulged in half a dozen fresh made donuts.  A quick stop at the cider press for a half gallon of cider and then off to a picnic table to enjoy our late breakfast. 

There was a folk music quartet playing acoustically and we enjoyed every moment of guitars and voices.  We watched kids running up the hill and flying down the slide on inner tubes all giggles and smiles shouting to their waiting parents and grandparents, “I wanna do it again!” before they were even on their feet.

Don’t let our happy faces fool you.  I tried to soak up their joy, tried to embrace the simplicity of their folly, but the tears came despite my best efforts.  A man singing, “Marry me….marry me…” made my heart struggle to beat and my lungs fight for air.  This amazing man next to me should have held his own children in his arms, but that never quite happened.  He would be without a doubt the world’s best grandfather, but that isn’t in the cards for him either.  This will be my last fall with him; our last time watching the colors, hearing the migrating cranes, listening for owls through our bedroom windows and soaking up the sun on cool autumn days like we did today.  All this joy around me, and I sat at a table unable to stop my sorrow. 

People say, “At least you have time together, at least you can do all the things you want to do before…” but there are days when we wish that wasn’t so.  There are days when the man holding onto me has to watch me mourn before he is even gone. 

We ate all the donuts and listened to the men sing Buffet and Cash and Taylor and every other song that made my heart break.  We walked back to the car hand in hand, watching the kids ride the ponies and pet the goats and mothers and grandfathers wiping caramel off small faces.  We walked together soaking up the day yet feeling the weight of our shared grief at all that isn’t fair, all that feels cruel, all that will never be.  

I don’t know how to survive this.  I really don’t even want to survive this.  I do not want to be in a world where he is not. Just last night we went out with friends – a last-minute, anywhere-there-is-music-playing kind of escape. We ate nachos and pizza and most of us sang “American Pie” while James cringed and altered the lyrics to express his extreme dislike for the song. And we laughed. We laughed until we cried.

On the drive home James struggled to find the words to express how hard it was to think about how painful this process is for me and I struggled to stop crying long enough to tell him how unfair this is for him. We laid together in bed, crying so hard together we couldn’t even speak. We are angry. We are hurting, we are struggling to savor the joy when the grief is tangible, the fear of the loss is enormous and feels insurmountable and the absurdity of it all is astounding. I am losing my beloved.

Fall is here. 

And winter is coming.