I hate August

August is a hard month

It is a month of change, of transitions. It is full of new schedules and a litany of responsibilities, and on top of that it is hot. I hate August.

I am also coming up on the one year anniversary of Gavin’s passing. People have told me it will be hard, nobody has yet to explain how. Probably because they can’t.
It isn’t as if things have ever quit being hard. Life has happened. There is now space between the accident and today. My life looks different, my job is different, my loss is the same.
I wonder, if in grief, we give birth to sorrow. The labor pains of anger, hurt and harsh reality, usher in the birth of sorrow.
A sorrow that you will carry with you.
I wonder if we then must figure out how to live with this new sorrow. Do we neglect it and then have an unhealthy relationship with our sorrow?
Or do we actually, against all fight or flight instincts, nurture it.
Is there a state of healthy sorrow?
It doesn’t mean that I am ok with what happened, but that I accept this is part of my story, although I never wanted it to be.
I think a few would argue that acceptance in some way devalues the person or thing lost.
I would disagree.
I would argue that to not accept the depth of the wound is to deny the impact or value that they had in my life. I accept the fact that Gavin meant so much to me, and my life is at a loss without him.
In the embracing or acceptance of this sorrow, I experience the path to healthy sorrow.
I believe God’s provision for healthy sorrow is the reality of the life, death and resurrection of Christ.
The living of the gospel.
Without the gospel, death is a period.
With the gospel, it is a comma.
My sorrow is part of who I am, yet, it is not all that I am.
Many times I need to remind myself of this.
The anniversary of Gavin’s passing is the birthday of my sorrow. I will not celebrate it by any means. But I will acknowledge it. I will acknowledge the depth of our relationship. I will give it the gifts of memories. I will water it with tears, so that it bears the fruit of significance. It will grow, but in the light of the gospel, it will not eclipse my life or God’s love.

I hate August, and that is ok. Jesus is bigger than August.

2 Comments on “I hate August

  1. I hate August, too. Even though the 24th will be 9 years since James died, just flipping the calendar over from July starts a heaviness upon me that I can’t explain… and then the realization hits me, oh yeah, “that day” is coming again. The depth of the wound, the depth of my grief is clearly a direct result of how much we loved each other. The ugly sobbing until I can’t breathe doesn’t happen nearly as often nor lasts as long… I know James is in Heaven; but “missing him” is still overwhelming and clearly will always be with me until I see Jesus. And yes, thankfully Jesus is so much bigger than August. Jesus will get me through this August, another anniversary alone, another birthday, another year closer to Him… Thank you so much for your faithful insights on grief.

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  2. My best friend lost her 7 day old son in April. April of 1994. She still hates April. April is April and Jesus is bigger but sorrow and grief and loss are real. It’s OK to hate August and still believe in a big, personal, loving God.

    I just thought of you and your family and your UT team this morning as I checked the calendar. None of you are forgotten and neither is Gavin.

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