My Favorite Halloween Memory

Welcome to Blogtober 2020! Here is post one, My Favorite Halloween Memory!

My favorite Halloween memory is a bittersweet one. It’s my favorite nonetheless. When I was about ten years old my grandfather passed away. October 30th, 2007, the day before Halloween. The days leading up to my grandfather’s passing were difficult. He had terminal lung cancer and my mom was his primary caretaker; along with my grandmother — who needed a lot of help herself. Through all of the chaos, and ultimately the grief, my mom hadn’t really planned a costume out for me for Halloween. She started to, then life happened, as it sometimes does.

I remember my mom feeling horrible, as if she failed me. Halloween has always been my favorite holiday, trick-or-treating was something I looked forward to in the way most children look forward to Christmas, so when my mom looked at me the morning of Halloween and said “I’m sorry, honey, I don’t have a costume for you this year.” I can only imagine the pain those words carried. As an adult now, I’ve felt the pit she probably had in her stomach that day; that deep pit in your stomach when you have to let someone you love down. The way the tears feel in your eyes as you do your best to keep them from taking a stroll down your cheek, the way your throat feels when it swells up and that lump when you swallow.

My neighbor had probably knew that feeling and all of what my mother was going through that day because she found an old costume and put together something I could wear. It wasn’t exactly a new costume but it was new to me. My mom cried. I don’t remember if I was grateful (I imagine I was but I can’t truly remember how I reacted), however, I hope I was.

I remember it was a mixture of Ghost Face and another random scary monster. My mom took me around that night and I was able to score my usual two pillow cases of candy. The entire time my mom refused to let me know that she wasn’t at all enthused to be trick-or-treating less than twenty-four hours after her father died.

As a twenty-three-year-old whose mother passed away when she was fifteen, I wish I could tell my mother just how grateful I am for that day. I wish I could let her know that her courage and strength isn’t unnoticed and I wish I could let her know that I’m aware of how lucky I was to have her as my mother.

Mothers, in most cases, truly do deserve to be honored as saints.

Although this post touched on some sad aspects of life, this story is one of my favorites of Halloween because that day — even though it took years after that day to learn — is the day I reference anytime I wonder if I’m loved. And even with my mom being gone, I’ll always know, that I wouldn’t have gone trick-or-treating that year if it wasn’t for some deep intense love my mother had for me along with a act of kindness from my neighbor.

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