When October rolls around and the nights are dark so quick that it takes me by surprise, I know to watch for the signs. Grief season in our household can begin early some years. October is the earliest it has begun-sometimes it’s as late as December-but with the changing of the season, our bodies start reminding us that they’re keeping the score. Deep losses leave behind pretty loud echoes. Bodies get extra tired, have a little less bandwidth, crave comfort over challenge. It’s a time for settling in for the journey. The only way out is through.

This holiday season we remember a mother and two grandmothers, gone 8 years, 12 years, and 1 year, respectively. No matter how long it has been since we hugged them last, there is still a remembrance that we feel bodily.

There’s always a dissonance when your loss-anniversaries fall near holidays. There are so many reasons to jump into the cozy, fun, and beautiful, joyful parts of the season, but there is always the undercurrent of grief.

I wish, sometimes, that I’d inherited a tradition of remembrance like Day of the Dead-a way to bring to the forefront the losses we’ve experienced in the community of our families, a structure to help us move through the mourning. Those practices of grief help, I think, and serve as markers in a journey that lasts a lifetime. They are a part of the stories we live inside of, the ones that allow us to look at grief safely and look ahead with hope and courage.

And so, I suppose this year I’m acknowledging our need for that kind of practice. I’m not sure what it looks like just yet, but I do think it would help. Until we figure out at least the edges of those rhythms, we’ll stick to the basics: prioritizing sleep, exercise, rest, journaling (for me), and connection. We’ll take care of these bodies as they help our hearts remember the ones we loved the most. We’ll tell their stories, even if they make us cry.

May we move with the Prince of Peace through the deep waters. May we move through the deep waters with Love as our Remembrance.