Maybe typical of farmers, Chuck noted and commented upon the length of daylight nearly every day. He looked at the time the sun would rise and set and was deeply in tune (and would complain at times) with the too-short days in the cold of winter. When I realized that he died on 12.21 - the winter solstice, the day with the least daylight of the year - I found that I don’t know, apropos?
This was one of many things that Chuck shared with me predictably and regularly. I suspect it is also one of the things that he believed I only partly listened to, and he was probably right. I tend to juggle many things at once, and frankly, I don’t always do a great job of listening. Truth. So, it is pretty ironic that every mention since he died of the length of the day, time of the sunrise or sunset has caught my attention and been a source of sorrow.
The first day the sun rose before 6 am - I noted that. The first day the sun set after 5 pm? Check. Today begins the three months of most significant daylight gains after the darkest quarter of the year (no shit). Today, I garnered this wisdom by reading this article (https://www.bostonglobe.com/2022/02/05/metro/solar-spring-is-here-that-means-we-gaining-more-daylight-an-increasingly-big-way/) in the Globe. And while I only half-listened to Chuck noting the length of the days, I shared his and every New Englander’s desire to have longer, warmer days once we reached this point in February. Until this year.
Because not only am I surprisingly attentive to these details of the sun this year, but I am dreading the change in seasons. You don’t have to be Sigmund Freud to work through all this, I guess. It is still astonishing that a person who was so central to my existence can be gone, and the world keeps moving forward. It just feels wrong. I also know that what I am missing most are the million small moments - even the ones I paid scant attention to when Chuck was sharing them with me. I have heard and read that other Black Swans have experienced the same thing, especially early in their grief journey.
At first, I wondered if I was regretting not paying more attention to these small moments? Like, I should have been much more aware at the time of how profoundly important these small moments were? But then I think - wouldn’t that have made them big moments? And if I miss them this much and note them this much, clearly there was something about them just being the consistent background music of our life that mattered, right?
And surely, when that beautiful summer day arrives on this beautiful hill - that still breaks and soothes my heart - I will welcome it, right?
Jane, this is so beautiful. And may I go so far as to say that I think every time you notice something about the length of days etc, it might be his way of giving you winks from the other side. The way you describe the daylight references as something he would always do, and that his passing was on the solstice.... Know his energy is swirling about you and the girls and will be taking care of you forever... maybe he is just trying to get your attention!!
Jane, your posts are so beautiful and impactful. As long as they help you heal your heart (as much as it can be), selfishly, I hope you will continue to write and post them for all of us...xoxo