January came in, leading with a gut punch.
My Papa walked on 09 January. He was 86, and lived a long, full life. He had three children, ten grandchildren, and something around a dozen great-grandchildren. He fought five active combat missions in the Korean War before he was injured, and earned two purple hearts for his service. He was such a massive, strong presence in my life, and together with my Nana, gave me so much over the almost forty years I had him in my life, and I’ve done my best to live in a way that would make him proud. To say I am devastated is putting it mildly.
I’ve been spending time with my Nana, helping her navigate the avalanche of paperwork and changes which nearly bury a new widow. It’s a lot, and no way to get through it than one step at a time. Fortunately, my family is large and close-knit. She will not be without support, even when my time in Da Yoop is over.
Just when it seemed our heads were above water, allowing us gasps of precious breath from our sorrow, Nana’s baby sister, my Auntie Boo, passed suddenly. None of us could have expected it.
I’m glad to put January 2020 behind me.
It hasn’t been without good moments. I’ve formed many new memories, and have been able to dig into my family history in ways I was too young to appreciate years ago. I’ve also finished a new manuscript, and have begun research for the next.
I don’t dare toss anything out into the universe to challenge it. I need February to be a respite. One step, one breath, one day. However we group time to continue living.