Come to Me. Or Happy Halloween.

It's Halloween. Again. The day that veil lifts, and the living and dead coexist closer than any other day of the year. Or so they say. And so I stand tonight at the window, after the candy has been given, pumpkins extinguished, costumes shed, and children are hopefully long in bed, looking out. Wondering where he is, if he can see me. If he is here at all....

I don’t love Halloween. I watch Gavin get dressed up, and share in his excitement, but deep down I am thinking back to our first one, together as a family. Gavin was three weeks old. Kurt wanted to dress him up and parade him about. I was a tired, new, first time mom. And I convinced my not so tired husband to wait a year, until he was older and could appreciate it. Kurt went along with it, and I think Gavin slept through his first Halloween, like most three week old babies do. We pulled out the plastic pumpkin from the basement because it was easier. There was always next year.

The next year, like promised, our son dressed up. He went out to a few houses, even though I turned down the candy at each. And his dad was not there to see it.

Kurt’s first Halloween as a daddy was also his last Halloween as a daddy. He never saw his son dress up. Never carved a pumpkin. Never knocked on the neighbours door yelling Trick or Treat. And as I watch our little pirate, so excited about today, I regret the fact that Kurt never got to experience it because of me. I never gave him that opportunity. I was too tired. And there were many, many more years ahead.

Or so we all thought.

I hope today that that veil really is as thin as legends say. And that there is something for you beyond this life. I hope that Kurt was able to watch his cow, his monkey, his train, his pirate as the years passed. I can’t give him what he wanted. Can’t take back what was is already done. So I can only hope in some way he is getting it now. And I hope he is smiling a smile as big as his little boy’s. And that he is here.

In the early days after Kurt’s passing, when I was less jaded about the world, less uncertain about my beliefs, I would ask Kurt to come to me, talk to me, visit me in my dreams. For well over a year, every night, before closing my eyes, those were the last words I spoke aloud. Somewhere along the line, I stopped doing that. Out loud, anyway. That’s probably about the time that I started to doubt there was anything beyond the here and now. But tonight, just in case, I will ask him again. And if the world between us really is as blurred as they say, even if I don’t necessarily believe, I still know that I hope he answers.

Come to me, answer me, prove me wrong. Let me see you one more time. Just so I know you can see us, can see him.

Happy Halloween.