For the past 20 years, the end of summer has brought sadness, not only for the loss of beautiful sunny days, long nights and outdoor parties around the BBQ. It also marks the anniversary of when I lost my father. The date usually sneaks up on me, and when it does it brings me back to the last few days of August 1993. Yesterday I saw the date on my phone and the numbers innocently displayed on the screen punched me in the gut. Just like they do every year.
Now that my days are filled with the needs of two little people, I don’t have the time to look at the calendar, and I think it’s a good thing. This morning while I drank my coffee outside for a few minutes of peace, I remembered again and I had a few moments to let the tears come to my eyes, but then I remembered that while I’ll always feel like a lost 18-year-old when I think of the moment that I lost my dad- I am transported back with every detail and emotion – there are other current issues that I need to be present for.
A perfect example: Nathan just needed me to help put “his” chair back at his place at the table. He’d put a sticker at the back of it months ago to know which one was his. Somehow it had been moved to another spot at the table. Also, he needed a box of raisins.
I had much more that I had in mind to write – some other fun stuff about what we did this summer, and the fact that Brendan is starting SK in French Immersion on Tuesday, and that Nathan is going to start going to nursery school a few days a week, but I have more pressing business.
Brendan needs me to play knights with him (and possibly also pirates). I must go.
Happy End of Summer
this thing called life 