I’ve not really been fit for human consumption lately – After deep analysis and much time spent pondering I think I’ve figured out why.
June should be a happy time – historically, June meant no more school, swimming, traveling, staying up late and sleeping in. It also meant getting a tan (because extra weight just does not look as bad when it’s tan, instead of brilliant white – don’t ask me why, it just is) and enjoying the smell and look of Mother Nature waking up, big time.
It means fresh cut grass and breezes that cool you off instead of driving the cold deeper into your bones. It means sun tea without worrying about the jar cracking from expanding frozen liquid.
It’s the time for family reunions, birthday parties and Father’s Day.
Which is the crux of the problem.
My two children were born 8 years and 3 days apart – meaning the year of the youngest one’s birth, the oldest one had four, count ’em, four birthday parties. One to Chuck E. Cheese, before Mom got to big to fit into the booths and couldn’t eat pizza because of heartburn issues – two (one with each set the grandparents) to manage around work/vacation schedules and then one on the actual birthday, because little brother or sister hadn’t arrived yet.
In all actuality, Morgan got 5 birthday type parties, because when my youngest arrived, Morgan received another round of gifts in congratulations of now being a big brother.
I told him he had made out like a bandit.
Here’s the list of both good (and bad) things about my current perspective on June:
June 6th, 1990 – Limon tornado strikes, while I’m driving to work. Spend the rest of the evening at the local truckstop, in the dark and very uncomfortable. Not allowed to drive the 40 miles home, because I’m obviously pregnant and roadblock troopers inform me they’ve been through a tornado tonight, they have no desire to also deliver a baby on the highway.
June 7th, 1990 – Colorado Springs – I, along with 14 other pregnant women, all decide to give birth. Nurse figures the barometric change from the previous day’s storm is the cause of this.
June, Father’s Day, 1990 – My dad is now a grandpa, too. He looks at his grandson and tells me, “That’s a keeper, Sis.”
June 10th, 1998 – Second son arrives. Morgan declares this is the happiest day of his life, as he holds his baby brother.
June, Father’s Day, 2007 – Dad passed away in April. Not feeling the spirit of the day and somewhat cranky that I can’t spend the day with him.
June 3rd, 2008 – Morgan passes away from bacterial meningitis.
June 7th, 2008 – Hold a Celebration of Life party on what would have been Morgan’s 18th birthday.
June 9th, 2008 – Manage to get through the funeral. Try to get myself ready for the next day.
June 10th, 2008 – Try, with all my might, to separate the celebration of youngest son’s birthday from the horrific events of the preceding week. Not quite successful, but overall goes well.
June, Father’s Day, 2008 – What’s the point of anything?
June 2009/2010 – Sink into longing and yearning for those gone to come back. Realize there is a time limit on my delving into the past, for June 10th arrives quickly and I must be at my best for youngest son.
June, 2011 – Started huge garden project in May, in hopes to be too stinkin’ busy to repeat the grieving mistakes of past years. Plan to sail right through June working my arse off. Manage to mess up my back, can’t get away from the knowledge of the ‘anniversary’ dates and am frustrated that I’ve allowed Grief to dictate when He shows up, rather than me deciding.
Fix grand dinner for birthday. Entertain friends who come to help celebrate. Son informs me it was fun. Postpone the road-trip we planned for birthday gift till end of month so I’m well enough and straightened out enough to do the trip justice.
Despite my best planning, I still struggled this June. And I wonder if I’ll ever again appreciate June the way I used to.
If we could just skip June for a few years, then maybe, just maybe, I’ll regain my appreciation of it.
As you know, “Absence makes the heart grow fonder.”