Endings and Beginnings

“For last year's words belong to last year's language
And next year's words await another voice.
And to make an end is to make a beginning."

~T.S. Eliot

Delayed reactions. 

I have them to a lot of things concerning my mom's death. 

It took me two months to start processing it. 

It took a breakdown in Lily Dale and another in New Orleans to realize I hadn't come close to making peace with it yet. 

Maybe I've made a bit of progress, though, because I felt fine during my trip to Mackinac Island. (It was supposed to be a mother/daughter trip, but it turned into a sister trip.) But, if I'm being honest, that had a lot to do with the fact that Becky was there with me. And she gets things on a level no one else can. Because she lived in the same house, experienced the same things, that I did for two and a half decades.

And I felt fine during my dad's birthday dinner tonight, too. Just the three of us telling stories over a delicious meal didn't seem weird or sad. 

But when I got home, I started thinking about how difficult this day's been for my dad. About how it's the first birthday in 37 years he hasn't celebrated with my mom. 

About how every year, for as long as I can remember, on my dad's birthday, we'd eat sloppy joes (my mom's were the best), cheesy chips (a.k.a. Cheddar and Sour Cream, and only the ruffled ones would do), and veggies and dip. 

When Becky and I were younger, we'd finish the meal and start our trick-or-treating adventure around the neighborhood. And, when we were older, we'd help Mom and Dad pass out candy to the children who followed in our footsteps. 

And then, inevitably, I got sad. Because that's not the tradition anymore. And we haven't settled on a new one yet. 

***

I've been told by more than one person that the "firsts" without a loved one are the most difficult. The first birthday (theirs and yours). The first Thanksgiving and the first Christmas. The first anniversary of their death. Maybe that's because old traditions are dying and new ones haven't been born yet. 

But life's a cycle, and I guess the only thing any of us can do is ride it out. Because nothing, not one single thing, lasts forever. And maybe, just maybe, we'd feel a little better if we appreciated the past for what it was, lived in the present, and made the future a beautiful place at which to arrive.

And if we remembered, even on the worst days, that to make an end is to make a beginning.