It’s been a dozen years now.

The date approaches, nerves and anxiety piling on

I always expect November to be crappy

because it is the month that I said goodbye to you

as you were lowered into the ground.

I try hard to smile and ‘think positive’ like everyone

on Instagram says to do…

But I remember what you meant to me,

and what your departure did to me

and I feel like it’s not fair to not give you that time,

to not give myself that space to sit and say goodbye again.

It’s been 12 years of November goodbyes,

reggae anthems lifted, salted tears let loose

sometimes on cheeks, some times within the soul.

Goodbyes are always awkward, flailing out on the tongue,

dancing out of sync with what your heart thinks you should be doing.

Melancholy accompanies these November goodbyes,

keeping them upright and squeezing any regrets right out of them.

Twinges of sadness accompany this melancholy,

and I give you time, I break away to give me time also.

Because

this goodbye is forever goodbye

starting back when that November broke my heart

and one that will follow me for the rest of my days.