I don’t mean to be a wet blanket, but I hate July. Hate it. Besides being one of the hottest months of the year, it is also a month full of anniversaries of the heart for me. Without even realizing it I start feeling a sense of dread about this time every year.
Then I remember… it’s that time again. I lost my dad at 60 years old at the end of this month. It hit us all like a bolt of lightening. At sixty, he was too young to go we felt. Then ten years later my mom died at sixty seven from COPD on July 26th. It was the hardest thing to go through, I knew where she was, with her Savior, but I felt like I had lost a part of me. Then almost five years later my sweet grandmother, who had become my best friend after Mama died, also passed away on July 18th. I miss her everyday and think about past conversations and how we could be in the same room and not even talking, but feeling we were together.
I wish this hole in me would heal. It has for the most part but the heart still aches for the sound of their voices, the scent of Mama’s perfume, my grandmother’s stories about our family many years ago, my dad’s naughty jokes and sharing a cup of coffee with him. I wonder how my daughter will feel when it is my time to go. Will she laugh when she thinks about my crazy stories? Will she still make our families’ Chicken Pot Pie recipe with the stained and torn card we cherish? Will she miss the scent of my fragrance I wore when pregnant with her and still wear to this day? I am sure she will.
I think I carry them all in my heart, and I allow myself to grieve them when those waves of sadness come. It doesn’t very often, but always in this month. I was honored to have them all in my life, learned so much from them all, miss so many wonderful things about them and skim over the bad. I prefer to remember the best of them, I hope that is how I am remembered too. I feel very blessed indeed.