August is the cruelest month.

With apologies to T.S. Eliot, I really don't know what to make of August.

The current month, over the course of my life (specifically the last 21 years) has brought towering joy and crippling pain.  Probably everything in between too, but me being what (who?) I am, these are the markers I follow.

August of 1995 was not easy.  Dad passed away on the 31st.  His last several months had not been easy for him.  He had COPD, a heart attack about ten years earlier had weakened him too.  That in itself wasn't easy for me to accept, in retrospect.  Here was a man that, although I stood about six inches taller than and outweighed by close to thirty pounds, I never doubted could kick my ass if he chose to.  Not that he ever exhibited that temperament though.  Dad was (still is) the most laid-back, even-tempered person I've ever known.  And that's made all the more remarkable by being married to Mom for 52 years, lol.  To say nothing of my siblings and I.

Well, them at least.

I never gave them any trouble...

Ahem.

So to watch Dad in this condition, to see him, in his last weeks, confined to a hospital bed after a devastating stroke, was something so foreign to me, well all of us really, but since I'm the one writing this, you know.  One of my most lasting impressions, one that comes fresh to my mind every time I let my (now) greying beard go for three or four days between shaves, is of Dad, unable to do that for himself.  He asked me if I could shave him.  Of course I did, gladly.

I also remember Dad's cardiologist, after the stroke had left him unable to speak clearly, which frustrated him to no end, commenting on how Dad was an angry old man.  Never in my life did I want to punch someone as much as I did this doctor.  I refuse to capitalize those words btw.  I don't know where he's practicing now.  He was pretty young so I'm sure he's still in practice.  Hopefully he's learned some bedside manners.

My most lasting impression of that time though, is that Dad wouldn't let Mom call for the ambulance if I was at work.  He'd tell her "Wait.  Joe will be home tomorrow.  You can call then."  That happened four or five times his last year.  The first couple times I was able to function as his paramedic as well as his son.  After that, I couldn't do both.  I had to be his son and let the crew perform what needed to be done for him.  That was a difficult reality to come to grips with.

Let's move ahead now to August of 2000.  And the birth of the Heir to the Throne.  What an amazing moment.  My first grandchild.  He was perfect in every way.

Now?

Wellllllllll...

The truth of the matter is he really is a pretty great kid and I count him among my blessings every single day of my life.  He's growing into a fine young man and I couldn't possibly be more proud of him than I am.    I remember how thrilled Diane was to go in to the delivery room with the Oldest One.  And how she wasn't sure what to make of this whole "Grandma" thing she was experiencing.  She did kind of dig it though when people would tell her she looked too young to be a Grandma.  She also doted on the HttT every chance she could get, right up to the end.

Which, btw, came in August of 2006.

Diane picked him up one morning, the week before he was supposed to start Kindergarten.  We were going to keep him for a few days and just goof off.  Whatever he wanted to do, that was our plan.  Life, of course, got in the way as it usually does.

That afternoon we were playing in the pool we had in the back yard.  Diane got out, said she had some stuff to do in the house, so I got the HttT out of the pool and dried him off.  We went in to the house and Diane told me she'd experienced some discomfort in her chest while she was in the pool and again climbing the stairs.  She said she felt fine now but had never felt anything like that before.  We talked about the dozen different things it might be but agreed the smart thing to do was to get it checked out.  We called the Boy Child and asked him to come over and hang out with the HttT while we went to the ED.  I vaguely remember calling him a few hours later and telling him they were keeping her overnight and calling the Oldest One and making up a story about why we had to bail on our plans.  At that point Diane didn't want anyone to know what had happened.  At her request I didn't even call the Quiet Child to tell her any of this yet.

When I say the week spiraled downhill from there it doesn't begin to describe the next six days.  Let me just say that it ended with me, sitting cross-legged on the floor; in the bedroom at the house of one of my nieces; trying to explain to my five year-old grandson why the Nana that adored him, that he worshipped, was never coming home.  The memory often brings tears to my eyes, even today, ten years later.  It is the single most difficult thing I've ever had to do.

Fortunately, in time, August made a move toward redemption.  Last year my favorite gemstone joined the family.  The old saying goes- "Diamonds are a girls best friend" right?  Well, I may not be her bestie but my fifth grandchild and second granddaughter made her appearance to rave reviews.  She, like the Reigning Princess before her, had me wrapped around her little finger from the start.  Her personality is showing more and more each day and she cracks me up regularly.  The Boy Child and my favorite daughter-in-law (still working on an actual nome de plume for her) have become my go to Sophie sitters when I need to go out of town for a few days.  Both of the littles are great with Sophie, but my little Diamond squeals with glee every time she sees Sophie, even if only moments have passed since the last time she saw her.  Literally.  Almost "peekabooish" and it's hilarious.

She's also very watchful of Sophie's dietary intake as this photo clearly shows.

You can see how pleased she is that Sophie is eating.

As plans are finalized for celebrating the little Diamonds first birthday I fully realize that August, fickle beast that it is, is currently a happy place.  Time has taught me that it may only be temporary.  So, I think I have really only one last thing to say, and, while it's hardly an original thought, it's certainly one we should all heed.  Enjoy your commas.  No, that's not it, although I do enjoy them. 

Rather, it's enjoy the life you live.  We all have little to no control over it, so stress as little as possible and embrace the warm fuzzy moments when they present themselves.

Peace