“Why do you love pumpkins so much?” my husband asked me the other day as we were pulling out and putting together our wonderful assorted Halloween decorations which consist of a lot of Disney and a lot of Great Pumpkin. It took me back to my childhood, to my Dad, Pop. He was sheer sunshine and magic. He made Halloween so extra magical for me every single year of my life.

October is my most cherished month, my favorite Holiday by far. I remember them all like it was yesterday. We’d carve pumpkins, go to the schools annual Halloween fair haunted house then out to Denny’s for vanilla ice cream because we survived the haunted house with your ears still intact surprisingly due to my extreme screaming and squealing. Then off it was to Disney World to attend Mickey’s Not So Scary Halloween Party, a tradition I have carried on with my Husband and Son. I remember running through the Magic Kingdom as Tinkerbell, I was waving my wand around as we rushed to ride Space Mountain again, for the hundredth time, as if we had never done it before. As if we never scurried about from Space Mountain to trick or treating followed by a short, cool monorail ride back to our resort, the Contemporary.

I love pumpkins so much, because not only do they bring me fond memories of the man who created the magic of Halloween for me, but they are a daily reminder that I married a man who Pop was best friends with and looked at as his own Son, a man who everyday continues to Live Like Pop, he continues on Pop’s magic. As I walk in from a long shift, to find my sweet Husband dancing with a new Mummy Mickey Mouse he bought for me and outside, all the beautiful decor complete with straw and a massive pumpkin container filled with beautiful orange Halloween flowers. A man who loved my Pop like he was his own Father for over 20 years, a man who inspired my Husband, a relationship in itself so genuine, so loving, that is also magic.

Thank you Pop for creating the spirit of Halloween for me and thank you for leading me to the perfect soul mate who carries on your magic for me. Fly high Pop, I am in good hands here.

Sometimes I scour my online photos.
I scour old photo accounts.
I sift through a few decades worth of pictures in hope so I find that hidden gem.
That one video where I can hear his voice so clearly, where I can hear his laughter and sink back into a time where my son was still alive and Covid hadn’t taken his life.
How I long for that hidden gem.
A picture that brings back a beautiful memory and unlocks a portal to the past.

Johnny came to visit me at the University of Maryland at Baltimore when I was in college in the early 1970’s. We both loved the poems and short stories of Edgar Allan Poe and we both always loved Halloween since we were kids. Very close to my college dorm was the Westminster Hall and Poe’s Burying Grounds. On Halloween night with flashlights, Johnny and I joined other students at Poe’s gravesite among the mausoleums and gravestones. We all took turns reading Poe’s poems and stories. My favorite poem was “Spirits of the Dead” where Poe writes about moving from one world to the next. I believe someday in the future I will see Johnny again. In the meantime I have so many special memories of my wonderful brother.

Every time I hear another news report or podcast discussing the current debates and debacles about the COVID vaccine, I find myself catapulted into a tailspin of anger. I think about Mr. M., our beloved coach, dying alone in an overcrowded hospital in Newark. If Mr. M, had had that vaccine, in some fantasy world before it was available, he would probably be alive now. He’d be old and opinionated and alive.

Politicians and alleged health people at HHS are doing grave harm to this nation. And, as they are denying, they are thus forgetting the nearly 1.3 million deaths from COVID. They are dancing on their graves, five years later, for vanity and political points. It makes me sick.

Four years ago today I saw your face, held your hand and told you that I loved you for the last time. I prayed for you and pleaded to you to fight like hell like you did the last time you were sick. Yes, four years ago today I saw you for the last time, and I hoped and prayed that you felt my presence and all the love I still had to give.

Sleep peacefully, my stepson.

September 28, 1981 – September 20, 2021

Tomorrow will be four years since you left us. I will forever love and miss you.