I’ll admit it: I don’t like Halloween.
And no, it’s not a religious objection or anything like that. I help my daughter get dressed up and I take her trick or treating and everything. We walked all over our development tonight, along with three other families. And this past Friday, I dressed up like a pirate and went to a costume party in my neighborhood.
I just don’t like Halloween.
It’s been six years today since we lost our son. He was stillborn on October 31, 2000. And every Halloween since, I can’t help but think what he would been like, what he would have looked like.
Honestly, I don’t think about him too much anymore. Too much other stuff to do, with work and church and family. But on Halloween, I can’t help it. Once or twice tonight, I almost turned back and went home, just to sit and be alone and think about him. But I figured that wouldn’t be very productive, and I didn’t want to leave my daughter.
So yeah, I don’t like Halloween.
In fact, I hate Halloween.