The Tibetans say that after death, a person’s soul takes 49 days to travel from one life to the next. I don’t know where that number comes from. Probably some ancient numerology. But if it’s true, then sometime towards the middle of October, maybe a comet will streak across the sky, or a wolf cub will be born, or a tiny orchid will press it’s way up through the forest floor. And that will be you.
I don’t know if I even believe that to be true.
But if it means missing you a little less, I’ll take it.