Does anyone else feel this?

Dear Uncle Gary,

I’m 59. A mother, a wife, a teacher. My life is steady, even lovely, two grown children finding their way, a marriage that still feels like home. I’ve lost people, yes. Parents. A sibling. But grief becomes a quiet companion at this age, doesn’t it?

Today, though, today something cracked open. I was walking, nothing unusual, and the autumn leaves were turning gold, crimson, rust. And I just… cried. Not from sadness exactly. But from the sheer beauty of it. From the flood of memory. From the ache of time.

I remembered my children as babies. The chaos, the exhaustion, the sweetness. I didn’t know then how much I’d miss it. How much I’d long for the noise and the mess and the small hands reaching for mine.

Now, each season feels louder. More vivid. More final. Is it just me, or does aging make the world more unbearable in its beauty? Is it the knowing that there are fewer seasons ahead than behind? Or is it the haunting truth that the simplest moments were the most sacred, and we didn’t know it?

I’m not sad. Not really. Just cracked open. Does anyone else feel this way when the seasons change?

Signed, Blue

Dear Blue,

You’re not alone in feeling this. What you described, that sudden wave of emotion triggered by something as simple and profound as autumn leaves, is deeply human. And yes, there’s science behind it, but there’s also soul.

As we age, our bodies go through quiet shifts. Hormones like estrogen and testosterone naturally decline, and that can affect the brain’s ability to produce and regulate serotonin, the chemical that helps us feel balanced, connected, okay. It’s not a flaw. It’s biology doing its thing. But it means we might feel more tender, more reflective, more vulnerable to the bittersweet.

Then there’s the season itself. Autumn, with its fading light and golden decay, can stir something ancient in us. Less sunlight means less melatonin and serotonin, which can disrupt sleep and mood. That’s part of what causes Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD), a real and common condition that makes the darker months feel heavier.

But what you’re feeling isn’t just chemical. It’s memory. It’s love. It’s the ache of having lived deeply. The changing seasons mark time, and when you’ve lived through many, they start to feel like chapters. You see the leaves fall and remember tiny shoes, sticky fingers, bedtime stories. You feel the air shift and realize how much you’ve carried, how much you’ve let go, how much you still hold.

This kind of emotional response isn’t a sign of weakness. It’s a sign of presence. Of being awake to your own life. And yes, it can be overwhelming, but it’s also beautiful. Others feel this too. Quietly, privately, sometimes with tears they don’t fully understand.

So thank you for saying it out loud. For naming it. That’s how we stay connected. That’s how we remind each other: feeling deeply is not a problem to fix. It’s a gift to honor.

Regards, Uncle Gary