I laid my head back in Diana’s lap, my eyes lazily opening and closing as I drifted away in silence. We’ve had this ritual since my brother’s passing where whenever the grief is overbearing she just pulls me in and we stay there until I feel better whether in public or in private. Outside the window lies a single great oak tree towering on the hill by the overlook, the leaves are falling a bright gold color. We always thought the tree was mystical, the way it swayed in the wind at night, the shapes and sounds it made as if it were trying to communicate something. Diana said she thought the tree saw and knew a great deal, it was one of those things that upon watching you understood but it was otherwise hard to explain. Everything was changing, I was changing too. The days were getting shorter, the sunsets were lasting longer, the colors were running deeper and the morning air had that crispness that slices through you just enough to make you altogether aware of your humanity. I was crying less but still crying, I felt guilty for working, I felt guilty for resting, I felt guilty for existing at all without my brother. Nothing seemed to measure up to his presence in my life. The thoughts swam through my head while the wind pulled the leaves from the branches outside. They fell softly and gracefully to the earth below, speaking silent stories of mortality and impermanence, passing on in the natural order of things. (Continued in comments)