Before Rob died, October had a
different meaning for me. It was, for
me, the official day that I had to admit fall had settled in (I’ve always disliked the end of summer with all of its joy and fun). After one
of my cousins died from breast cancer leaving behind young children (one of whom I had taught in his 3rd
grade year), the first day of October always brought to mind Breast Cancer
Awareness Month and I would wear pink for Becky.
After my lumpectomy when I was 5
months pregnant with Wesley (thank God
the lump ended up being benign), I wore pink in memory of Becky and for me
- to remember how grateful I was that I was not in the ranks of the breast
cancer soldiers fighting for their lives.
In 2011, I had planned on making a
big deal about Breast Cancer Awareness for my Aunt Beth – who was in the middle
of her battle with the disease at the time (a
fight she has won, is doing well, and is enjoying her first grandchild so
much!).
However, September 20, 2011
changed my plans. On October 1, 2011, I
was still learning how to breathe again after Rob’s sudden death. I will admit that I don’t remember if I
even thought about Breast Cancer Awareness as October 1st came
around that year. I don’t even remember if Beth
came to mind that day or not.
But what I do remember is that
morning was torture. It was the first
instance when I had to mark the passage of time in a tangible way without my
Rob. When I woke that morning, I checked
my email so I could read KLove’s Scripture of the day. And right beside my computer was the small
calendar I used for quick reference on dates when working on bulletins,
newsletters, and any typing I was doing for Rob, etc. It was when I looked up and saw that calendar
that I fell apart. It was SO UNREAL to me that I was going to live in a month that Rob
would not live! It was literally
like he died again that day. ALL OVER
AGAIN - I had to realize he was
dead. He would not live in the month of
October. His time had stopped in
September and so had mine in so many ways.
It was only my 11th morning without him that morning. I was still in the stage that when I heard
the back door open – for a second, until I would remember - I would think it might
be him.
And, in that state of mind, I did not tear off the September page to show October's.
I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.
In the previous 10 days, I had HAD to do so many unthinkable things –
tell my children their daddy was dying, watch - for 24 hours - as my husband’s body shut down
and watch him die, write my husband’s obituary, plan his funeral, pick out
which clothes for him to wear in his casket, pick out a grave plot, and watch
as my husband’s casket was placed in the ground and covered. I had no choice in all of those things. They all had to be done and I would not have
wanted anyone else to do it for me. But
as crazy as it might sound, I just chose NOT to tear off that September calendar page that
morning.
Obviously I knew that time
would still march on. October was there
whether I liked it or not. Rob was not
going to breathe a breath ever again. I would
live in a month, then a year, then another year, and now I’m beginning a
3rd year without him. I knew
that that morning. But it made me feel a
little better that morning to symbolically dig my heels into the ground and try
to hold back the fast moving train of time.
I did not want to live in a month in which my Rob did not live. I knew I would not win the hold on time but
not tearing off that page helped me make it through that first day of the first
month that Rob and I would not share the same time and space. It helped me make it through that first time
of having to acknowledge – even by something as small as a calendar page being
torn off – that there was no longer a “we.”
This morning, October 1, 2013, as
I turned the page on the calendar – those memories flooded my mind and I shed a
few tears. I so clearly remember how I
felt that morning 2 years ago.
And today, as October 2013 dawns,
I am so grateful that I’m not in the same place I was then.
And today, even though I still
dislike (or maybe hate is the word)
that fall has settled in, I will embrace October.
I will wear pink for all of my
loved ones who have fought breast cancer.
I have put out the candy corn and filled the jars with the fall colored m and m’s.
I have hung the fall wreath.
And I will live.
