“As a child of God, I am greater than anything that can happen to me.” —A. P. J. Abdul Kalam

We’ve entered the sacred month of August, round three.  The first year, of course, was that wild season of hospice, when we folded our entire beings into saying goodbye over 14 days instead of the anticipated eight. And then last year, at least for me, the whole month of August (and a few weeks in July) took me through a tug-of-war of feeling numb and desperately sad. This summer has been so busy, especially toward the end, that I haven’t been able to stop and make the annual grief review. But I can certainly report that its been much more mellow and pleasant than the previous two Augusts. From what I hear from those who have walked this road before me, this means absolutely nothing. Next year, or the Fifth year, or even the fiftieth year can be the surprise bang that takes you for a tumble under the waves again, gasping for breath, and scathed by the sharp sand below the surface.

Earlier this week, I was reminded that it had been two years to the day that Maki had been sent for early from visiting his New Zealand family. I remember telling the surgeon who first unofficially broke the news that Vernon might not make it (before Palliative Care or the Chaplain came in to tell me later) that I wouldn’t want to take him off dialysis until at least his son came back. I couldn’t live with myself if he died before Maki saw him. He arrived within a couple of days, a doctor’s note convincing the airline not to make new charges. I remember this blog entry that spoke about the sudden shift in the plan.

Here is a photo of the kids when I they first saw each other again that summer. Both had just come home from respective trips: Maki to New Zealand and Justine to visit cousins in Kansas City with my mom. Maki knew by then, Justine was about to be told. Here is a photo of the two of them reunited that day.

And here are a few pictures of later on:

HOWEVER…this isn’t just about memories of the past. It’s also a time to reflect on how things have changed since then. And nothing has changed more than the children. Here is a picture of them together just last week. I’ve never seen them looking so similar, so both like their dad, at the same time.

I’m so grateful for their sweet relationship, admittedly not always smooth with an 8 1/2 year difference, but obviously close—and delightful to witness. They’ve been through a lot together, that’s for sure. I probably should have found more happy, smiling photos to make my point. But they are the sadder, wiser types that are able to see life both full and half-full at once. We are in this together!

Maki, now 16, is starting his Senior Year of High School next week. What a milestone that feels like. He’s doing great, he has a job, great friends, a girlfriend, and he’s starting to plan a path for his potential. He knows so much about so many things. He’s often been called an old soul, and it seems to be true. Shortly, after Vernon died, we discussed what he would throw his energy into, and he chose his music. It’s quite incredible to look at how he has grown that passion and ability since then. Now it’s his plan: he wants to be a sound engineer, and after first learning guitar, he has taught himself how to play piano as well as drums, let alone the music mixing software. I’m so proud of him. I’d go on, but I know privacy is also important to him. 🙂 However, I will say, that as he gets older, he reminds me more and more of how his dad must have been when he was young.

Justine will be going into 3rd grade. She’s my sidekick, and I am so thankful for her affectionate and expressive ways. Because we are so similar (or is that different?) in so many ways, I am digging my heels in for the next decade of growing up together. It’s clearly going to be a fantastic voyage. She is amazing…always keeping me on my toes with the wise, honest things she says and her sharp intuition/questions about life and people. I am happy they are both so smart, but I think that is mostly due to Vernon. I can hardly keep up, to be honest. Both children are wonderful humans, and I’m truly blessed to have them in my life, always helping to move me into the next best me. However weird and unconventional  our family at times may seem, we do support one another. (I often tell them that  “weird” should be a compliment.)

The moment after Vernon died, I remember my specific thought: “I need to get back home to the kids. I need to make sure they are ok.” It felt as if I hadn’t really been there for them as they deserved those years I’d been caring for Vernon. That thought ruled my mind for the next two years…it still does, but I’m beginning to relax and understand that they are far better than ok. They are truly magnificent children who will become even better adults in time.

I used to think I was taking care of them. But now I understand that they were saving me. I used to think I could parent them into their best selves. Now I understand they are turning me into the parent I am. They are childrening me. And so we continue to grow into our next selves together.