Autumn is the most foolish sorrow among all sorrows

These famous words were spoken by my favourite Serbian poet — Miroslav Mika Antić.

When I was younger, I didn’t understand them.

Now, I feel them deeply.

Do you remember those school essays titled “Autumn in My Hometown”?

Every year, we began the school season with that very topic.

We had to really look at the trees, the colors of the leaves… to listen to how they rustle under our feet.

To feel the scent of roasted chestnuts, the sound of knitting needles, and the crackling fire in the hearth.

Back then, autumn felt magical.

Now — it’s different. It weighs heavier on my heart.

This autumn came quieter than any I can remember.

It brought the smell of damp leaves, the wind in the branches, and that strange feeling that something inside us slowly withers — and we don’t even notice when it began.

This year, just like every year since we lost my brother, autumn has a different color.

Warm, yet heavy.

Peaceful, yet full of silence that speaks louder than any word.

This year also marks one year since the tragic event in my city — the collapse of the station roof, when sixteen lives were lost forever.

No one from the authorities has taken responsibility.

Protests have been ongoing for a year now, and yet — silence.

It’s exhausting, both physically and mentally.

And you pray for the day when justice will once again have a face, and people will find faith in a better life.

As you grow older, you begin to realize that everyone carries their own silence.

Everyone fights a battle you cannot see.

And no matter how different we are, that quiet sorrow burns the same way in all of us.

It will soon be four years since my brother left us.

Three and a half winters, three and a half springs, three and a half summers — and every autumn after them.

They say time heals, but I believe time only teaches the heart how to live with emptiness.

It doesn’t fill it. It doesn’t erase it.

It simply turns it into a place where memories live —

in silence, in a song that suddenly hurts, in a smile that reminds you.

As the holidays approach, everything gets louder.

City lights, advertisements, gifts, laughter — all those things that are meant to bring joy only remind a part of your soul of what’s missing.

And it isn’t easy.

It’s not easy watching the world go on breathing while you miss the voice of the one you love.

But every autumn teaches me something new.

That comfort doesn’t come from grand words, but from small things.

From a warm cup of tea, from the scent of baked apples, from the laughter of my child.

From those moments when you realize that, despite everything — you are still here.

That you still have someone to wake up for, someone to tell your day to, someone to hold close.

And that maybe, through those little moments, the ones we no longer see — still live within us.

So, if this autumn feels heavy, allow yourself to pause.

To take a deep breath.

To let the tears fall if they must.

To be silent if words won’t come.

Because silence heals — in its own quiet way.

And when you’re ready, take a walk under the trees.

Listen to the rustling of the leaves beneath your feet —

perhaps they’ll whisper to you that nothing that once loved ever truly disappears. ♥️

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🍂”Jesen je nabudalastija tuga medju svim tugama”

Ove poznate stihove izgovorio je moj omiljeni pesnik — Miroslav Mika Antić.

Dok sam bila mlađa, nisam ih razumela.

Sada ih osećam duboko.

Sećate li se školskih sastava „Jesen u mom kraju“?

Svake godine bismo otvarali školsku godinu upravo tim naslovom.

Morali smo da se dobro zagledamo u drveće, boje lišća… da oslušnemo kako šušti pod nogama. Da je osetimo kako miriše na pečeno lestenje, zvuk igala za pletenje i pucketanje vatre u ognjištu.

Tada mi je jesen bila  čarobna.. Sada — drugačija je. Pada mi teže.

Ova jesen je došla tiše nego bilo koja koje se sećam.

Donela je miris vlažnog lišća, vetar u krošnjama i onaj osećaj da nešto u nama polako vene, a da ni ne primetimo kad je počelo.

Ove godine, kao i svake od one kada smo izgubili mog brata, jesen ima drugačiju boju.

Toplu, ali tešku.

Mirnu, ali punu tišine koja govori više nego bilo koja reč.

Ove godine navršava se i godinu dana od tragičnog događaja u mom gradu i pada nastršnice na železničkoj stanici kada je šesnaest života zauvek nestalo.

Niko još nije preuzeo odgovornost od vlasti. 

Protesti traju, već godinu dana zbog toga a i dalje svi ćute. 

Teško je — i fizički i psihički.

I moliš se da dođu vremena kada će pravda ponovo imati svoje lice, a ljudi veru u bolji život.

Kako odrastaš, shvatiš da svako nosi neku svoju tišinu.

Da svako ima borbu koju ne vidiš.

I da, koliko god da smo različiti, ta tiha tuga u nama — gori na sličan način.

Biće uskoro četiri godine otkako mog brata nema sa nama.

Tri i po zime, tri i po proleća, tri i po leta — i svaka jesen posle njih.

Kažu da vreme leči, ali ja mislim da vreme samo nauči srce da živi sa prazninom.

Ne popuni je, ne zaboravi — samo je pretvori u mesto gde stanuju sećanja.

U tišini, u pesmi koja odjednom zaboli, u nečijem osmehu koji podseća.

Kako se praznici približavaju, sve postaje glasnije.

Svetla po gradu, reklame, pokloni, smeh — sve ono što bi trebalo da donosi radost, u jednom delu duše samo podseća na ono što fali.

I nije lako.

Nije lako gledati kako svet nastavlja da diše, dok tebi nedostaje poziv onog koga voliš.

Ali jesen me svake godine nauči nečemu novom.

Da uteha ne dolazi u velikim rečima, već u sitnicama.

U toploj šolji čaja, u mirisu pečenih jabuka, u pogledu na moje dete koje se smeje.

U onim trenucima kada shvatiš da si, uprkos svemu — ovde.

Da imaš za koga da se probudiš, kome da ispričaš dan, koga da zagrliš.

I da možda, baš kroz te male trenutke, oni koje više ne vidimo — i dalje žive u nama.

Zato, ako vam ove jeseni bude teško, dozvolite sebi da stanete. Da udahnete duboko. Da pustite suzu ako morate. Da ćutite ako ne možete da govorite.

I kada budete spremni, prošetajte ispod drveća.

Oslušnite šuštanje lišća pod nogama — možda će vam baš ono šapnuti da ništa što je volelo, nikada zaista ne nestaje. 🍂