Each June for the past decade, the entire month has been an absolute emotional train wreck for me. My friend Shannon, who inspired GFB back in 2001 after a brave fight against a serial killer, was murdered on June 12th. Her birthday is June 21st, a glorious reminder she was born – but also that she is gone.
As anyone who has a painful anniversary can attest to, even happy occasions have a funny way of being sad. Side Note: Please keep this in mind as the holidays are upon us. Remember to be extra kind and give extra space to those in pain – even if much time has passed since their loss or trauma. We all heal in our own divine time.
This past June sucked as usual, as I wallowed in 10 years of painful memories. But something happened in July, right after it was over. I felt this weird closure, like I was done with the grief and the ritualistic mourning period that set in each summer. It freaked me out a little, to be honest. It’s amazing how comfortable, even co-dependent, we can become with our life’s pain.
I started seeing that maybe June has always been a much bigger gift than a curse. I began to find meaning in everything that happens (even the bad stuff) and for the first time began to believe that we are all more interconnected – to each other, to our loved ones past and present, to the Universe – than is comfortable for most people to accept.
Earlier this Fall, I learned I was pregnant. And the due date?
This new life, which according to those baby websites is about the size of a lime, has altered my outlook on the month of June forever. Instead of associating those 30 days with loss, I will now link it to growth. Growth of our family. Growth to my already heaping pile of blessings. Growth to this world, in hopefully a very positive way.
If you think about it, having one bad month a year for 10 years straight totals 300 days – almost a calendar year of misery. Then this little zygote who makes me puke in public and go to bed at 8pm changes everything.
And that, in itself, is a holiday miracle.