Long Days of Summer

Recently, I had been trying to figure out why I spend the end of July through August in a deep depression. The only thing that pulls me out of it is my birthday in September and then I am just fine until the end of July rolls around again. There was something about this time of year that has left me in tears, something I couldn’t put my finger on. There are some things I had tried to push back in the corners of my mind, while things I need to remember escaped me. August 4^th is one of those things that every year an alarm would go off in my head but since I couldn’t place the date, I just pushed it out of my mind and moved on. Eric’s dad’s birthday is August 5^th, so for a while now I figured that I was just confusing his birthday for another important date.

This year I remembered why this time of year gets to me the way that it does. I don’t know how my memory was triggered. I think it was perhaps how close we came to losing my mama. I think it was the hours spent in the hospital clinging to my big sis, my dad and my big brother. I held on to them for dear life as I felt certain dreadful feelings I hadn’t in a long time. 20 years ago to be exact.

She died on July 20, 1996. On August 4, 2016 she would have been 97 years old. That is way older than how I remember her. 

I am ashamed I spent so many years not remembering her birthday or the date that she left this world.

But, I’m even more ashamed that that it took almost losing my mama to not only make me remember the significance of that date but also to make me think about things for the first time in my life.

We all know that grief is a part of life, but I never wanted to feel the way I did in July 1996 ever again. And yet, in July 2016, I felt it even without the loss of a loved one. I felt it because my mama got sick and for the first time in my life, I saw her as she is.: A mortal woman. 

I may think of my mom and dad as these entities that will be around forever. They always have been and they always will be. I guess I’d even hoped that all my wishful thinking would somehow make it come true. I guess a lot of people think of their parents as immortal and can never face the hard reality.

I guess the point of this blog is not to be depressing as it at first appeared to be, but to say:  I have to take every minute I can get. Yes, I work a lot; yes I am a busy bee. After all, everyone must work to provide for their family. But, everything is precious: Each phone call, each visit, each laugh, even each annoyed sigh. 

I’ve often said I regret that I didn’t make more memories with Aunt Nell or how I wish I would have spent more hours talking to her rather than running around the yard or watching TV.  Some have said to me, “You were a kid, you didn’t know any better.” Well, I’m not a kid anymore. I am an adult now and I definitely know better. 

It might be difficult because I don’t live as close as my siblings, but I’m going to work really hard at making time for my family. I have to let every single one of them know, without doubt, they mean the world to me. 

Because, despite how I can be sometimes. You do. 

No need to be depressed about a season, a month, a date or a year, when you can fill all the seasons, months, dates and years with new memories of those you love who you still have some time with. It may not be a millennium, but even one extra second…is precious.!!