Excitement used to reign
during November's chilly days.
Thanksgiving was close at hand
and Christmas just around the bend,
but now I'm desperate for November to end.
This once happy month
it reminds me now of only death
of loss and grief, pain too real,
and holidays that have lost their shine.
It isn't the same without you here.
On November 12th, now six years gone
the first blow came, a life cut short.
Forty-five, with still much to do,
and adoring nieces who did not understand
how you could leave us, far too soon.
Two years later his mother followed
on a close, dark November day.
Mother. Grandmother. Wife.
So many worlds destroyed in a single blow
in losing you, our world lost its glow.
Two years passed, then a third.
Perhaps November's curse had broken,
but death remains forever cruel.
It never leaves a life untouched,
and so a third soul it claimed.
A second grandmother snatched away;
once again November stole
the happiness we should have had.
While others prepared for holiday fun,
we buried a woman who touched us all.
November has taken much,
and I can't forgive the lives it stole.
So this month that I once loved
leaves me now with despair,
and a heart broken, beyond repair.