When Halloween Lost Its Magic

When Halloween Lost Its Magic As Halloween draws closer, I find myself feeling an emptiness that is difficult to put into words. It isn't because I was particularly fond of Halloween. It is because Sana was. Halloween brought out her inner child. It was one of those occasions when her creativity, imagination and sheer enthusiasm came alive. She had an incredible knack for putting together costumes using things she already had in her wardrobe. She could take the most ordinary pieces of clothing, add a few accessories, and transform herself into something quite extraordinary. She didn't need elaborate costumes or expensive props. Her imagination was enough. I remember the excitement that surrounded Halloween for her. The planning, the dressing up, the anticipation of trick-or-treating and the joy of being part of it all. She carried that enthusiasm into her professional life, too. Even as a teacher, she would spend hours planning the most creative and fun-filled Halloween activities for her students. She wanted them to experience the same magic and excitement that she did. She wasn't just organising an activity; she was creating memories for little children. That was Sana. She had a beautiful ability to hold on to the child within her, even as she grew into a woman. She found joy in the smallest things and knew how to make an ordinary occasion feel special. And now, Halloween feels very different. As the decorations go up, shops fill with costumes and children get excited about trick-or-treating, I find myself withdrawing. There is no anticipation, no excitement, no urge to participate. Instead, there is an emptiness, a heaviness, and an anxiety that I cannot quite explain. For me, Halloween went away with Sana. Perhaps this is one of the lesser spoken-about realities of losing a child. You don't just lose the person. You lose the little traditions, the celebrations, the familiar excitement and all those seemingly insignificant moments that made up your shared life. You discover that certain days on the calendar are no longer just days. They become reminders of someone who should still be here, enjoying them. The world carries on celebrating, but you are left navigating the memories that come flooding back. I wish I could borrow some of Sana's enthusiasm. I wish I could see Halloween through her eyes again, even for a moment. I wish I could watch her rummage through her wardrobe, piece together a costume and find delight in something so simple. I miss that version of her. I miss her laughter, her imagination, her playfulness and the way she embraced life. I don't know if Halloween will ever feel the same again. Perhaps it doesn't have to. Perhaps some celebrations become too intertwined