Last night Hubs and I opened a bottle of wine and toasted to the end of our July.
“Well”, he said, “We’ve had worse Julys.”
This is funny…and sad. I dread July. This one month marks the births and deaths of both kiddos…..all wrapped up in a poopy 31 days. Kinda like Baskin Robbins 31 flavors of ice cream. But awful. And no sprinkles.
I have never hidden the difficulty of this month. Not only for me but in trying to honor my Hubs. Here is how our July usually goes………
Me: “This month is awful and hard and I need to surround myself with as many people who support my cause as possible.”
Hubs: “This month is awful and hard and I need to surround myself with me. And maybe my wife….if she is not surrounded by other people. But she usually is….so just me.”
July is the month we lost both Jack and Samantha. It is also the month that our team of 60 get together and climb 180 miles for a cause embedded in my soul. My grief has always been diluted by my miles, and my sweat, and your hugs, and cowbell.
I missed my diluted version of July.
Full concentrate grief July is a lot to manage.
Grief is a hard thing to anticipate. Something that seemed okay last year can sting the next. And on the flip side, an issue that was so important last July can be forgotten. That’s the crazy thing about grief.
And the statement above? Only applies to you. Everyone else can be having their very own Grief showdown…..and you might not even know it until its high noon and you’re standing in front of the General store.
I do think we all survived….by the hair of our chinny chin chins (which might be longer because of work-from-home policies?) but we did survive. The magnitude of how hard the weekend was just reminds me….be kind, if it doesn’t matter let it go, Love your Loves, and be cognizant of another’s battle. We are all missing our people. Give Grace.
And with that, Adios July 2020, you Mother F#cker.