I think I've only missed a couple of years when she was with us and only one after she passed. It's a holiday tradition, except it's a month before Thanksgiving and two before Christmas. We pick out a pumpkin that we'll carve early and once done, place it atop a tombstone in a cemetery on a hill.
I've written about it before, to celebrate my mother's birthday instead of cake and ice cream, we carve a jack-o-lantern.
Yesterday as the weekend came to a close was when I asked the kids what pattern they thought would be fun and we cut it up.
Autumn is my favorite time of year and it's not even close. I love the crisp air, the beautiful colors, the time when all children dream of Halloween as the unofficial beginning of the holiday season.
But now, a sense of melancholy drifts into this time of year as we're reminded of a wonderful woman.
When I think of her, I want to be better. I want to do better. I want to make her proud. It seems the least I can do is carve a pumpkin and leave it on her grave.