August
There's a part of me that wishes that the calendar would jump from July 31st to September 1st. August is one of those months that makes my tummy do somersaults - like the "I've eaten too much and I need to get off this ride" kind of somersaults. There's the end to summer and getting back into a more structured routine, but it's mainly because August is when my dad passed away.
I have never been as broken as I was then - emotionally, mentally, physically. The day of my dad's funeral, after the Mass and cemetery service, I was admitted to the hospital for severe pneumonia and fluid in my right lung. They drained my lung but a week later I was back in the hospital with more fluid. In total, they drained over 1.5 liters of pleural fluid. This time and the weeks and months that followed were a surreal blur of exhaustion, sadness, resentment, guilt, and even anger. There were times when I felt everything at once; times when I felt nothing at all; and times where I wanted to jump out of my skin.
Somewhere along the way though, something changed. Amidst the din of my grief and in a quiet almost unexpected way, I began to feel gratitude. Gratitude for the gift of a great father; gratitude for the decades of happy memories; gratitude for the little ways that showed he cared - like the funny, loving way he would tease me ... poking me in my side to surprise me or pulling my ponytail out when I wasn't looking because he thought my hair looked better down.
I can't say when or how that exact moment happened, but I am humbled by that moment of grace - without it I would still be in a dark place. Grief can be consuming. Yet I have found that gratitude makes it lighter - more bearable. And while grief is something that never really goes away, it's also something that I hope never will. We grieve because we love. For me, I grieve as a way of remembering and a way of waiting for when I will see my Daddy again. I know that I will.
In 2012, as the one year anniversary of my dad's death approached, we wanted to do something together as a family to commemorate that day and honor my dad. We decided to go to a waterpark! I can still hear my mom's echoing scream/laugh - a mix of "I'm scared out of my mind!" and "I'm having so much fun!" bundle of nerves and excitement - as we raced down the Howlin' Tornado at Great Wolf Lodge.
Each August we do something different, but always together. One year we went to Long Beach, WA and met Jake the Alligator Man; another year we drove to the Bay Area where my 3 year old nephew couldn't get enough of swimming in the "ocean" (aka the hotel swimming pool!); another year we invited friends to our home to pray the rosary; another year we went to the San Juan Islands and ate lots of ice cream - in part because the Alpaca farm was closed and because ice cream is always a good Plan B option :)
August might not be an easy month. But it reminds me year after year that we can still smile and laugh even though our hearts are hurting ... that in the end, there is life and yes there is death. But most of all, there is love. And ice cream. There is always ice cream 💙
