Respite

It gets hot in this valley. A common way to soothe oneself is to head to the coast for a break from the heat, which is what we did last week. We found record breaking temperatures (108 degrees...on the coast....really?!), numbers that hadn't been approached since the 1970's, and then it only hit 103.

And then Wednesday came along. Anticipating another hot day, I started the day with a swim in the Chetco River. A beautiful swimming river. I submerged, I splashed, I swam upstream while my kids watched from the shore, cheering their Mama on and directing my course. "Swim to the other side! Come over here! Go over there!" It was my birthday swim, my rebirth, my stepping into my life in a refreshed way. I thought to myself, "This is it. This is what's going to wash away my pain. I'm going to feel so different when I get out of the water." And I did feel great.

But what I realized over the course of the day was that it was the entire day that shifted me. The 108 degree day on Tuesday was like the really painful part of birth before the baby finally pops out. It was like the final stages of grief before acceptance. The last bit of excruciating pain. And my great feeling didn't come from that one swim. It came over the course of the entire day. The 108 degree heat had dissipated, and we had beautiful weather on the coast. Calmer temperatures that we could play in. I followed the river swim with long bouts of ocean play, running in and out of the waves with my kids and my mother, Dad asleep in a chair in the sand. I followed that with a wienie roast over a campfire on the beach, something I hadn't done since the 70's as a kid, and something I was able to watch my 81 year old father truly enjoy.


And while I didn't walk out of the river feeling like the grief was all gone, I walked away from the ocean later that day feeling exactly that. It's not one instance or action that makes it go away. It's piling up the days in which I live through an entire day feeling only happiness. It's more significant when I realize that it's my birthday, a day that one year ago was the worst in my life as I learned things I didn't want to learn. In some ways, I opened my eyes again this birthday, and while they've fluttered close a couple of times since then, I won't lose the feeling of a hallmark day that was truly wonderful. It was the child being born after the painful birth process. It was my sense of self returning after the struggles of this past year. As the sun set on that brilliant day, a day of respite from the heat and my grief, there we were. Grateful, instead of grieving.