Lessons in Driving

There's something about the George Washington Parkway that nearly always induces thoughts about my dad and inevitably, some degree of teary eyes. Given that I take the Parkway to get to work every day, this meant that a lot of mornings this spring were spent in the school parking lot trying to gather myself before approaching another day of teaching.

I'm at an unfamiliar and uncharted point in my grieving process that is both very liberating but also very scary. The memories of my dad that I was once not even close to being able to recall now come to me easily and for the most part, they provide solace and happiness. Just as we have in most all of our relationships, though, there are also memories that usher in sadness, anger, and regret. More than anything, I feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude that my dad was, and in many ways still is, such a strong influence and role model for me. I will forever consult with him in my head when it comes to those game-changing decisions that he so often helped me out with (ie. reminding me to be oh, rational and practical!).

I haven't had nearly as many alligator tear moments in the past two months. Instead, a certain action or memory provokes a sense of respect and admiration for my dad. Or, in some cases, I can feel him biting his tongue (like when I added olives to my caprese pasta, which would have been a big no-no in his book). Mostly, though, it feels like a massive curtain of fog has been lifted and I'm finally able to see clearly, and act in such a way too. As with depression, the grieving process has been one of those instances where you don't even know how scary parts of it were until you're on the other side of it and can look back on yourself and say 'that wasn't my normal self'.

It's a little scary and also a little liberating not knowing what role grief will continue to play in my life. People continually remark that a year is a major milestone, but I've felt very hesitant and apprehensive about time stamps throughout this life-changing event in general. I stand by the fact that every single person experiences grief differently and that until you have experienced it, it's impossibly difficult to know what another person who has lost someone close to their heart is suffering through (I've been guilty of not reaching out when I should have myself). To that end, I'm so, so grateful for the musketeers that have stuck by my side, holding my hand, and have marched with me through the darkest days. On my loneliest of lonely days, I always knew that I was loved deeply by people that I can only hope to be there for in the same capacity one day.

Without question, CP has been my rock - not only for the past five years, but especially since we lost my dad. Those of you that know him will agree that he is so, so incredibly loyal and loving. And patient....

This past weekend, he agreed to teach me how to drive a five speed. Much to my surprise (because I know myself), it was fun and no curse words were muttered under my breath! I still have a ways to go- helloooo getting out of park and into first gear- but we'll get there. As we were driving home, I was reminiscing about when my dad taught me how to drive. I picked it up pretty quickly and at the end of the first day of learning, my dad decided to put his life in my hands and directed me to the George Washington Parkway. As the sun set over the Potomac, my dad and I cruised along in my Poppy's old Chevy Corsica with white knuckles, tense shoulders and all. It's one of those moments that is permanently etched in my brain. 

Now, I have new and meaningful memories of the Parkway that will happily co-exist with the old ones. On that first of many trips to school at the end of August, I'm looking forward to having a big smile on my face (and it's okay if there's still tear or two, too).