Until six months ago I never understood the power a date could hold. Of course I keep track of special dates on my calendar with pretty colors and appropriate doodles. These dates are the birthdays, anniversary's, holidays, and that ever-so anticipated vacation. They are well-known, well-liked, celebrated and adored. They brilliantly arrive and then without missing a beat get tucked away with all the other yesterday's. I like these dates, they bring me joy.
Until six months ago the 30th carried no particular meaning. It was a day just like any other day patiently waiting to be filled with "ordinary" things. Up until the phone call, August 30, 2011, was an "ordinary" Tuesday. I woke up, drank coffee and drove off to the hustle and bustle that the 7th day of kindergarten brings. It was a predictably "ordinary" day until the phone call that instantaneously changed my life. Driving in the car, hearing the urgency and fear in my sisters voice I learned that the 30th would now and forever be the day that I lost my dad.
Yesterday was February 29th. Today is March 1st. Where is the 30th? My rational self knows that there has never been and never will be a February 30th. My grieving and irrational self does not understand how this can be. My dad died on the 30th, which means there always has to be a 30th. Well, at least this is the idea that I have been grappling with yesterday and today. It is just a date, but it is a date that my whole being senses. Since he died I can feel the coming of the 30th with an internal radar that I did not know existed. It is a date I dread, but one I am realizing I need, at least for now. Maybe it won't always be this way and I will eventually get over the cruelty of the universe for creating a month in which the 30th does not exist. I can't answer that question right now and am not sure that I will ever be able to.
Today was wrong to me. It should be the 30th, not the 1st. It is just a date, but a date that is now a permanent timekeeper, a holder of my grief.
It's amazing the power a simple date on the calendar can hold. I always wondered how my aunt, who was born on February 29th could survive with only a "real" birthday every four years. Your story brings the date much more poignancy. How utterly unfair. Hugs to you.
ReplyDeleteSo real, so vulnerable, so moving. Thank you for sharing a piece of your grief with us.
ReplyDeleteSuch powerful writing... Feeling a date coming used to be fun when you realized what the excitement was for! Grief strikes in a less becoming way. Thank you for sharing.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Jen, for sharing this beautifully written, poetic and deeply personal post. Your gift for bringing this heartfelt perspective to us will help us all keep your Dad in our hearts. XO Theresa W.
ReplyDeleteIm excited for you as you begin this writing journey. You are off to a powerful start. Love you.
ReplyDelete~Caity
Love you so much! can't wait to read more...you are amazing and inspiring.
ReplyDelete