Friday, February 15, 2013

My Autumn

Dear John,
 
My cold is better. I worked today then went grocery shopping. It's a quiet night.
 
On the way home I had the radio on. I heard Night Moves, and was caught by the last four words: With autumn closing in. And I thought about that for a long time. When you were here, my life was in late summer. But the day you died was my autumnal equinox - the day when the darkness catches up with the light, when day and night are tied, the day things start to die. Every day after that, there is a little more night. The days get shorter and shorter, the darkness comes a little earlier and stays a little later, until the winter solstice comes with the longest night.
 
So I'm in autumn now. There is no calendar for me to see, so I have no way to know how much longer before my winter solstice. I an eager for my shortest day, for the coming of my night. I'll keep my promise to Jen - I won't dig when I visit you at the cemetery. But I will welcome that long night whenever it comes. Because the long night opens onto eternal day, uncreated light, the fruit of Christ risen from the dead and trampling down death by death.
I am content to wait my turn. But I do long to come. Please pray for me that I will wait well - that, as the liturgy says, I will spend the remainder of my life in peace and repentance. Pray that I will one day hear, "Well done, good and faithful servant." Save me a seat beside you.
 
All my love,
Joan.

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