The change of season has a way of stirring up grief even if we’ve been living with a while.

Each change of season is a visceral reminder that time is passing; the day our loved one last walked the Earth is receding into the increasingly distant past. Time’s passage seems to take them further from us, even though dead is dead is dead, and they are really no further away than they were the moment they breathed their last.

But I find that any change at all provokes new twinges of loss. I still find it hard to believe, and heartbreaking, that Tom has not met the two silly dogs I adopted. I felt guilty rearranging our bedroom to accommodate their crates by moving his dresser against a different wall, all but erasing the memory of him standing by it in his skivvies. I bought a new car a few months........

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