Most of the people that I have been closest to have died in the summer months.
My parents, particularly my father, would be quick to point out that my father's parents both died outside of the summer months. I always... respected(?) them, but never felt a closeness that I would think too much about.
That's pretty lucky, I suppose, to have a fairly amiable relationship with family. Nothing bad, nothing to complain about. They were always good to me, but I never really felt those bonds like I do with others in my life. Perhaps it is a generational thing? I mean, my mother's father (still alive) has always been a "Men shake hands, not hug." kind of guy, so you know, these things are just different.
I don't mind hugging.
I don't know why I am writing about this other than the fact that summer reminds me of my friends who are no longer on this Earth. I'll be taking a trip to America this summer with my son. (Funny how now I default to "taking a trip" and not "returning". I guess after twelve years America no longer feels like a "home" to me. Even though I am a citizen still. But let's not dwell too much on America on the moment. I'm working through some shit.)
It was the death of one of my good friends which actually prompted me to get the divorce. Life is clearly too short, and can be even shorter than you expect, and I couldn't continue living that way. Not that I would say I am excessively happier now, but progress takes time, right?
Well, it's been a few years. Perhaps I need to pick up the pace.