Somehow it's been a year already. Somehow it's taken forever to get here. I feel both at the same time. Luckily, I've never been one to feel time is a real concept.
One year ago, my father, my first best friend, my teacher, my mentor left this plane. I was in the hospital with my mother, my younger brother, and my Godmother. I sat by my father while his breathing became more labored and more auto pilot. I hate listening to that breath. I know, from previous hospital visits, it is the last of breaths. I needed a break. We took turns eating lunch, so no one would have to eat alone. My brother and mother went first, then I went with my Godmother. The cafeteria seemed to be miles away. Floors down, long hallways. I thought we'd never get there. I didn't so much care to eat, but I thought I should keep my strength up. So, we sat, and we started eating. I was halfway through my sandwich when two young nurses approached our table. Asking for me, I said, "He's gone isn't he?" To which they replied, "Yes, we're so sorry." We wrapped up our leftovers and started the treck back to the room. There was a two visitor minimum in these crazy times, but after a passing, as many people could be in the room as you wished. So we all gathered there into one big hug. We sat in the room for a while. Another nurse (they should really be referred to as hopspital angels or something more descriptive to what they truly are) asked if any of us would like a mini printout of his last heartbeat with a lock of his hair. I immediately said yes, while my mother initially said no. I told the nurse we would take two, so if she changed her mind later, I would have it. She changed her mind right then, so two it was. I still have it somewhere in my jewelry box. I intended to make some sort of pendant with it, but haven't gotten around to it.
I took a picture of the time on the wall. I knew I'd never remember. I don't like to remember death dates, but this was the biggest one I've experienced yet, so I started taking pictures. I wasn't even sure why or what good they would do, but something about it made me feel better. I was thinking I'd share them with my family, but again, I haven't gotten around to it. So, this post seemed the proper place for some of them.
This day falls between two family birthdays; my sister and my youngest child, who are 5 days (and some years) apart. I was grateful Dad chose to leave in between them, and not on one of them. It still weighs heavy though.
I've always loved Autumn. I love the crisp air, the changing colors and the incredible transition the Earth needs to take in order to get to Winter. It is amazing. Dad never liked Autumn. He thought it was too full of death. "Everything around you is dying. It's depressing," he would say. I silently disagreed. I was born in the beginning of Autumn, and I couldn't remember a time I didn't love it. The start of school, apple season, pumpkin carving, Halloween, Thanksgiving, it was all a magical time to me. Dad passed in Autumn. Will I still love it the same? I worry about that a little bit.
Making our way through the holidays for the first time without one of our main characters was...well...interesting. My family scattered to the winds. Half of us siblings and families made it to Mom's for Thanksgiving. That was nice, even though a bit small from our usual 30 or so folks. Christmas time was altogether different. My sister recently moved down south, so we knew we wouldn't be seeing them. Also, my brothers and their families take turns alternating Christmas and Thanksgiving, so this was the Thanksgiving year. So, Christmas was going to be quiet...extra quiet...Mom decided to go to CT with my older brother and family. It was just going to be me and my family here for Christmas this year. For the first time in my 51 years, I'd be away from my nuclear family. Ok, I thought, it's different yes, but that doesn't mean it will be bad. My husband's family is still in town, and we made plans to do Christmas Eve with them, per tradition. So, that felt nice. It ended up being just my brother inlaw, and his two sons, because the weather did not want to cooperate. But it was still a nice time. Just different.
A reminder that everything is different from now on.
Somehow we all made it through the winter. Some video group chats, a few visits down south, and next thing, Spring was here. That means, for me, I get busy at work. Our season starts in the Spring, and is busy until November. I don't really remember if there were any poignant moments, or meaningful times, but another holiday came and went, and I hardly even remember what we did. Easter was a blur, and even looking back at pictures, there basically were just pics of the food and a couple of terrible candids. Very unlike me. I have been photographing family events and holidays since I could hold a camera. Guess I wasn't feeling it, even though my younger brother and Mom were there for a nice meal. I'm sure it was a nice day.
Summer time brings extra family visiting at the lake, where my mom lives. It is where we spent every summer growing up, and when my parents sold their house, they moved there. They share it with my aunt and uncle who stay in the summer time. They've done that since before I was born. I was glad they would be there this year with Mom.
The first visit back to the lake once the house was more open to the lake side was, I believe, for Mother's Day. I stood on the front lawn and thought, "Oh no. I don't like this at all." The feeling of Dad missing struck pain in my heart. We've never had a summer at the cottage without him. Ever. And even though he wasn't fully himself the last several summers, his energy was still him. We could sit next to him and enjoy it, even if his mind wasn't put together right anymore. I made a promise to myself right there on the front lawn. I would not be coming back here this summer sober. I know, I know, everyone with an issue with this is probably thinking, "Oh no! Don't do it!" But I did. Every time I went to the lake, which was a lot, I was either high, buzzed, or both. Not to the nth degree where I couldn't function, but just enough to help dull the pain in my heart. I didn't want to face it. I was afraid of how bad it would get. Father's Day, Dad's birthday, so many other birthdays, 4th of July, my youngest's high school graduation. I knew all of these were going to happen without Dad. And they were going to be celebrated at the lake where he wasn't anymore. I couldn't take the thought. So, I numbed.
This summer also brought a celebration of life for Dad. Mom invited family and friends and everyone came together for the day to remember him. It was really a wonderful day. There were so many people from different times in his life, and to see them all together was really heart warming. Dad would have loved it. He was such a people person, and loved those closest to him dearly. It was his favorite thing to have his tribe around him. It was a lovely, loving day.
That day must have helped my heart begin to heal a little bit. After that, I didn't find it so necessary to numb out while I was at the lake. Not that I didn't keep doing it for a bit longer, but by the end of the summer, I found myself there wihout having taken anything for the pain. Somehow, my heart found healing.
Now, here we are, one year later. Having gone through all the motions without this main character in our lives. Everyone is doing alright, I believe. Mom is a freaking superstar. She spent most of the year visiting her children, grandchildren and friends and relatives. She was quite the jet setter! She likes to be busy, and she's good at finding things to stay that way. She has also been wonderfully open with her feelings as they come, and that has been a true gift. I've seen her making a new way for herself, as her life is totally different than it was a year or more ago. She is strong and amazing, as always to me.
Do the tears still flow? Yes, but perhaps not as frequent and furious as they when they started. Bouts of sadness, joy, giggling have all spontaneously occurred with memories and moments. The pain in my heart feels somewhat healed. I know the scar will forever remain. Just like the love my first best friend taught me to have for life and the people I love.
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