Autumn and winter have always been my favorite seasons. The soft sunlight, the early evenings, the cool breeze, and a warm cup in my hands slow the world down just enough for me to breathe. These months wrap around me with a calm nothing else gives.

But the calm has a shadow.

Every year, as the cold settles in, I feel the chill inside me rise. My dadi’s death anniversary on 12th November changed this season forever. And this year, the ache is deeper, because my beloved Aba is gone too. The season I love most now arrives with memories that cut sharper than the wind.

So I disappear. I live on coffee, isolation, and sleep—anything to blur the days. It’s not that I don’t care… I just don’t have the strength to pretend. Only a few close friends know what November does to me. They check in quietly. They understand. And I’m grateful.

But the world keeps moving, while I stay stuck in the same loop of days and dates.

Writing is the only thing that softens the weight. When my thoughts spill out, the grief loosens, even if only for a moment.

12th November 2018 & 23rd April 2025—two dates that split my life in half. My Aba was my dadi’s youngest and her most loved. Now they’re together in the forever realm, and I’m the one left with the ache. This pain is all I have of them, and letting it go would feel like losing them again.

The world moves on. I don’t.