The kids and I made a plan for what to do on the upcoming third anniversary of Tony’s death.
One of the boys and I were by ourselves driving recently when he asked me about camping. If we were ever going camping again, at a specific location Tony loved. I told him we would go camping again this summer on a float trip, but we will probably never go back to that parcel of land he was remembering.
Upon hearing this information, my son started to cry. I found the first place I could safely pull over. My kids aren’t a constant ball of leaky emotions, so I felt the urgency to make sure I gave him space to grieve. I did not want to push his feeling away because we were on a timeline. Nowhere was as important as showing up for my son in this moment.
I put the car in park, unbuckled us, and just held him. He expressed how much he missed his dad, and I told him how sorry I was and that his dad was sorry too. With my boys, I’ve learned to hug them in these moments until they pull away. It’s my way of giving them permission to move through the grief at their own pace. And I’ve learned it from getting hugs from my friends. The ones who will hold you until it gets weird, those are good people.
We sat there together until he pulled away and asked for a tissue. New car problems meant no tissues or even old drive thru napkins. I grabbed the blanket I keep for all sporting events out of the back of my car and told him to wipe away. So, I gave him one more hug before asking if he was ready to continue on our way.
After we buckled in and hit the road again another idea popped into his brain. He asked if we could go camping in the backyard like they used to do with Tony. No way was I turning this down. By the time we reached our destination, he was almost done riding that wave.
Tony and the neighborhood dads used to all setup tents in our backyard. I think it was really just an excuse for them to stay up way too late around the firepit, each one getting louder than the next as they tried to outdo the last guy’s sarcasm. The kids got to run around like maniacs in the dark until they crashed in a fit of giggles after too many s’mores. And the wives sleeping blissfully unaware of it all in the comfort of their own beds.
Without hesitation, I texted the crew:
“Hello my friends. It’s hard to believe it’ll be 3 years this month since we did dumb $#*+ with Tony. This year the 20th falls on a Saturday. My boys have requested we turn the backyard into a KOA and have a camp out. Weather permitting, we can grill out, play some bags and just be together.”
It feels good to have a plan that all my kids and myself want to partake in. It can be hard to find agreement sometimes between all of us. I am equally grateful to have a day that ensures I am surrounded by a group of people Tony and I both love like our own families.
