It is early Fall, a season best known for its autumn foliage accompanied by the falling of leaves as the trees ready for yet another season.  As I sat on my nephew’s porch recently I happened to notice one such leaf gently gliding towards the ground.  And it was just around this time last year that one particular leaf caught my attention.  It was not expected to fall although it was bound to happen sooner or later. My brother, Joe, passed away as surely as a leaf in autumn in mid-October. 

I recall being hurt and surprised by what I deemed an inappropriate timing.  Truth be told, I couldn’t imagine a season for Joe’s departure.  I expected him to be there – plain and simple.  But it was Joe’s Fall season and my sentiments would soon be wrapped up with the rest of my grieving. 

In hindsight I can see where my perspective went askew.  I had thought of Joe as the sturdy tree on the block.  An Elm or perhaps an Oak?  I failed to comprehend that like the rest of us Joe was simply a part of the beauty and majesty of the tree.  And, like me, Joe had often displayed a genuine affinity for nature and for trees in particular.

And, when one stops and thinks about it, what more beauty can Joe’s life reflect than that of a once radiant green leaf now inspiring us with the splendor of its autumnal colors.  Falling from his perch on a tree Joe wasn’t done with us.  His kindness necessitated a final burst of colors for us, and yes – me, to remember him by. 

I think I shall remember him best as a lovely Fallen Leaf.  As a green leaf in its prime Joe had helped me appreciate the fullness of the family tree, that sturdy trunk, the multiple branches displaying their innate beauty, the strength and weaknesses of all those leaves which he held near and dear to him.  In that respect, the tree of life is well aware that in spite of its Fallen Leaves the beauty that was – is – and in season – shall once more be. 

So brother Joe, Rest in Peace, and know that you fell gracefully and

that your splendor, your vitality, and your colors were more than enough.

A leaf has fallen and like a child I chose to honor it by placing it between the pages of my life.

P.S.:  My oldest sister, Rosa, Modesto’s first daughter also passed this year and her Fallen Leaf was just as sacred and beautiful as any. 

By David Rivera