August 25

August 25 would have been Dad’s 68th birthday.  We decided to go camping as a family in his honour.

While he was still in the hospital and we were clinging to the hope that he would get better, we made plans to celebrate his birthday at his favourite spot - Hicks Lake.  His eyes lit up and despite his weakness, his excitement was obvious. 

The two weeks leading up to Dad’s birthday were extremely difficult.  To be expected, I know. Especially during the ‘year of firsts’ as all my grief books refer to it. Nights full of  tears and dreams recounting traumatic experiences at the hospital. Days consisting of cubicle breakdowns and overwhelming feelings of wanting to pick up the phone and call my dad.  To hear the voice I’ve known my whole life, but now fear I’ll forget.

I know it is important to let these ‘upsurges’ happen.  When I feel a wave of grief coming on, I let it come.  Experience the feelings and let the tears flow.  But there is a difference between remembering and reliving.  Thankfully, Lindsey taught me that when a memory brings you back to a painful experience and you feel like you’re experiencing it all over again, it can cause trauma (my hospital dreams, for example) and shared some methods to stop the spiral. 

It was important to spend this ‘first’ recognizing the grief and loss, but also making new happy memories.  It’s always sad when it takes something tragic to bring a family together, but I'm looking forward our new traditions for August 25.

I know my dad was with us at Hicks Lake.  Maybe we felt his presence because we did things he loved, like swimming at the Harrison Hot Springs pool. Or maybe it was all the sharing of childhood camping memories.  But the red canoe (so much like the one he had) that sat all weekend across the shore seemed like it was placed just to remind me that dad was there.

Laugh as we always laughed
at the little jokes we enjoyed together.
Play, smile, think of me…
Let my name be ever the
household word that it always was.
    - Henry Scott Holland