Saturday, November 24, 2012

The eleventh month

We're here. The last month of the first year. If you've ever lost someone, you've probably experienced it - a heightened sense of memory of what you were doing near the end of your loved one's life. Ironically, Aimee was going through this last year, remembering in the last few months of her father's life.

I'm going through it now.

Thanksgiving was a couple of days ago. For me (and I know many others), this holiday marks the beginning of the march towards Christmas. Last year was no different. I put up the tree last Thanksgiving weekend. I also decorated the outside of the house, hanging lights and setting up lawn ornaments. Aimee frequently referred to me as "Sparky" (a reference to National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation, the single best holiday movie ever).

The following weeks were filled with double excitement: Christmas was coming, but before that, our vacation with her side of the family for eight days in the Florida Keys. Sunny weather, warm temperatures, and some quality time remembering her father, who'd passed away December 19 of the previous year. Sounded like it was going to be a great time, right?

What could possibly go wrong?

Over the next month, my posts will likely be mostly focused on what was happening this time last year. I know that's what will be frequently on my mind in the coming weeks, and the best way for me to process that that is to write about it.

Let the journey through the eleventh month begin.


  1. Thinking of you and praying for you during this time, Pat.

    And National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation IS the best holiday movie ever. Period.

  2. I am so sorry for your loss. I cannot imagine losing my spouse, or my mother when I was young. Prayers for you, your daughter, and your family. We are also grieving now, for the loss of our infant daughter, who passed on Dec 12th. So I understand how hard this time is. I hope you find solace in writing. It has been a huge outlet for me. Thinking of you and praying for you.

    1. Kat,
      I am so sorry to hear about the loss of your daughter. As difficult as losing my wife has been, or my daughter losing her mommy, I think the toughest grief may be that of losing a child. I can't begin to fathom what it would be like to lose Rowan, and I hope I never have to. Prayers to you, especially around this anniversary.