I can't believe it's been 10 years. I remember that week so vividly.
Here's a bonus "comment section" story for our SDB readers...
Just over 10 years ago, Katie invited me for a birthday brunch at her house in Cabbagetown, an historic neighborhood in downtown Atlanta. She knew her dad had been sick, and she told me how worried she was about him. She felt bad about bringing down what was supposed to be my birthday celebration with her concern.
While we were sitting on her front porch talking, Katie received a call from her mom saying that she was taking her dad to the hospital. Of course, that effectively ended our hangout. At that point, Katie was so scared. She didn't know what to expect (and, certainly, how can anyone expect a cancer diagnosis with a prognosis of just days to live?). I assured her that, no matter what, everything would be okay.
Of course, when saying that, I truly HOPED her dad would make a recovery and it would all just be a thing of the past ... Something that, on my next birthday, we would say, "Thank goodness that turned out alright! Now we get to make up for last year!"
But, as you all know, it didn't go that way. That year, my birthday was on a Thursday. I believe that our birthday celebration took place on the previous Sunday, the 10th. And that's how quickly things happened... After being admitted to the hospital that day, it was clear soon after that Joe wasn't going to recover and was admitted to hospice on the 12th. I brought a Pub sub platter to the Hawkins crew on Wednesday the 13th. They were all staying with Joe through hospice, taking turns resting when they could. I felt so helpless, but bringing some non-hospital food was the least I could do. I stayed a little while, making small talk and trying to bring up good memories to lighten the mood. But, really, it's impossible to do in such a situation. Everyone was in a state of shock. I just wanted to wrap everyone up in a blanket and make them feel better... But their bodies would still feel the weight of reality, no matter what comforts I could bring.
I waited with baited breath. Selfishly (😅) I kept thinking, "Joe! Please don't leave on my birthday!" He didn't. But on Friday, the 15th, I got a text from Katie telling me he passed in the early morning hours.
---
I'm weirdly good about remembering birthdays and important anniversaries, in general. But Joe Hawkins' death is a day I'll never forget. Not just because of its proximity to my birthday, but because... Well, I love the Hawkins family. They're practically MY family! So, of course I'll never forget that day.
In some strange twist of fate, though, almost 7 years later, my own Dad died not even a week after Katie's birthday. And, now, both our times of celebration are a bit tinged for us because we are thinking of each other's losses.
---
All of that a very rambling comment to say, man, I am so grateful to spend life — with all the ups and downs and rock bottom hard times — with people like Katie and the Hawkins family. And to get to see all of the incredible stories you all share here in this space. It truly is a wonder, this life we all share.
This is so incredibly sweet. And I've had similar experiences. My husband's mom just passed last week, two days before her youngest son's birthday. There will always be some significance it seems. But sometimes I wonder if these twists of fate are our loved ones reminding us of how we come together and grow closer and keep our loved ones alive by continuing to share them with each other even after they go.
This makes my heart smile. Thank you and hugs to both you and Katie.
I'm sorry to hear about your mother-in-law. That timing really is bittersweet... But like you said: it's that bittersweet juxtaposition of events that amplifies the meaning of it all, in a way. And keeps us sharing and showing love.
Your article hit home today with me, being 58 years old and just being released from the hospital (back fusion surgery). I feel for your loss of your father.
I hope you have an uncomplicated and smooth recovery! I had knee surgery a few years ago, and all I can say is physical therapy is the best. Get as many sessions in as you can!
Thanks so much for sharing this. 🙏 It is something I try to resist every year at this time. My son died in a road crash on 13th November sixteen years ago and, like you said, I don't really fix the date in my head but it's like my body always remembers. I try to keep going but there needs to be a pause. I am still figuring out the best way to navigate it. This morning I dragged myself up the hill to the woods behind our house. I didn't try to make myself happy or lift myself up, I just noticed how I was feeling. Sad. I eventually stopped to sit a while on a wet bench. It was raining lightly. And there I cried for a bit. It's not dramatic. I don't need a witness but I do need to honour how I am feeling more instead of trying to fix it as I fix and adjust my public mask of optimism so everyone else feels comfortable.
Karen, thank you for sharing. I am so very sorry for your loss. And I am so glad that you gave yourself the space to cry. I hope it helped, even a little ❤️
Oh Katie. Thank you for sharing that photo of your dad with us. It's helping me feel my feelings (that I didn't even know I was having!) about my own dad, who, one month from today, died by suicide 22 years ago, on Dec 14, 2001. December 13, 2001, was the last time I saw him. I was 20 years old, three months since 9/11 and three weeks before my 21st birthday.
Thank you for the invitation to feel my feelings, Katie.
Oh, Rebecca, what an immense loss. My uncle (my dad’s brother) died by suicide and I know how complicated and painful that kind of loss can be. I’m proud of you for feeling your feelings! Thank you for sharing ❤️
My dad went into "comfort care" and then passed two days later, 5 years ago this past September. The day I rushed to fly home to make the official decision to do "comfort care" and to say my goodbyes was the start of a 3 day sequence I process/remember every year since. That first day is also the birthday of my chosen "mom" friend. It was also the day of the bridal shower I threw for my best friend, that i missed to go fly home. On the last day, when he passed, the Emmy awards were on TV in his hospital room. I'll never be able to disassociate the two events.
I too struggle with how to mark the occasion publicly. Personally we have our traditions to eat his favorite meal (chicken parm) and sometimes take a shot of what he was famous for -- peppermint schnapps. But publicly, I tend to just let it be. I can hear dad still telling me "I don't want to be all over that Facebook."
4 years after he passed, I quit my job of 11 years, on the middle day of that 3-day sequence. It was traumatic...and much more emotional knowing the anniversary it was overlapping. Once resignation was official I cranked up one of my dad's favorite songs, Johnny Paychecks's "take this job and shove it" and I cried.
I launched my substack this year around the same anniversary period, and thought I'd launch into that grief in my first posts, as if launching my substack would be a tribute to him. But I didn't. Probably cuz it wasnt. This comment here is the longest I've publicly written about it. Thank you for sharing the space so I could.
The universe and/or coincidence is funny in how things line up. In late 2019 I fell in love with my person, who I married in 2022. He shares the same first name as my dad, and his birthday is the day before my dad's. I too wish Dad could have met him.
I don't know if there will ever be a time when marking anniversaries publicly will ever feel right. But I find comfort in knowing he never wanted the spotlight on him anyhow. Hugging him mentally, and getting my flu shot every year (a fun dad story for another time...maybe that's the post?), seems to be the best remembrance for now.
Oh I would love to hear the flu shot story someday! In the meantime, chicken parm and peppermint schnapps sounds like a pretty great way to honor a pretty great guy. I’m sorry for your loss ❤️💔❤️
Happy Belated, Becca! Our bodies and minds are so strange and fascinating. I hope both of you and your families can find ways to ride the waves of grief. Honestly just thought how isolating grief can be because everyone will experience it their own way within a group of loved ones. So I really hope everyone finds a way that works for them and they feel no shame around. <3
Great post. I really resonate with this one. I too have had to learn how to sit with my sadness. Feeling it helps even if it is painful. Sending hugs to you. It's a tough time of year for me as well. I get it. ♥️
This is a beautiful post. I still feel like something is wrong with me when I feel sad. I appreciate the reminder to be kind and tender to myself. Thank you for telling us about your dad and sharing your vulnerable motherhood story.
I am so sorry your Dad left this world so early. 💔 please continue to take the time and space to feel your feelings. Grief as you know shows up in strange ways. Sending you so much love. Thank you for this newsletter. I honestly look forward to it weekly.
I can't believe it's been 10 years. I remember that week so vividly.
Here's a bonus "comment section" story for our SDB readers...
Just over 10 years ago, Katie invited me for a birthday brunch at her house in Cabbagetown, an historic neighborhood in downtown Atlanta. She knew her dad had been sick, and she told me how worried she was about him. She felt bad about bringing down what was supposed to be my birthday celebration with her concern.
While we were sitting on her front porch talking, Katie received a call from her mom saying that she was taking her dad to the hospital. Of course, that effectively ended our hangout. At that point, Katie was so scared. She didn't know what to expect (and, certainly, how can anyone expect a cancer diagnosis with a prognosis of just days to live?). I assured her that, no matter what, everything would be okay.
Of course, when saying that, I truly HOPED her dad would make a recovery and it would all just be a thing of the past ... Something that, on my next birthday, we would say, "Thank goodness that turned out alright! Now we get to make up for last year!"
But, as you all know, it didn't go that way. That year, my birthday was on a Thursday. I believe that our birthday celebration took place on the previous Sunday, the 10th. And that's how quickly things happened... After being admitted to the hospital that day, it was clear soon after that Joe wasn't going to recover and was admitted to hospice on the 12th. I brought a Pub sub platter to the Hawkins crew on Wednesday the 13th. They were all staying with Joe through hospice, taking turns resting when they could. I felt so helpless, but bringing some non-hospital food was the least I could do. I stayed a little while, making small talk and trying to bring up good memories to lighten the mood. But, really, it's impossible to do in such a situation. Everyone was in a state of shock. I just wanted to wrap everyone up in a blanket and make them feel better... But their bodies would still feel the weight of reality, no matter what comforts I could bring.
I waited with baited breath. Selfishly (😅) I kept thinking, "Joe! Please don't leave on my birthday!" He didn't. But on Friday, the 15th, I got a text from Katie telling me he passed in the early morning hours.
---
I'm weirdly good about remembering birthdays and important anniversaries, in general. But Joe Hawkins' death is a day I'll never forget. Not just because of its proximity to my birthday, but because... Well, I love the Hawkins family. They're practically MY family! So, of course I'll never forget that day.
In some strange twist of fate, though, almost 7 years later, my own Dad died not even a week after Katie's birthday. And, now, both our times of celebration are a bit tinged for us because we are thinking of each other's losses.
---
All of that a very rambling comment to say, man, I am so grateful to spend life — with all the ups and downs and rock bottom hard times — with people like Katie and the Hawkins family. And to get to see all of the incredible stories you all share here in this space. It truly is a wonder, this life we all share.
Rebecca💔❤️💔
This is so incredibly sweet. And I've had similar experiences. My husband's mom just passed last week, two days before her youngest son's birthday. There will always be some significance it seems. But sometimes I wonder if these twists of fate are our loved ones reminding us of how we come together and grow closer and keep our loved ones alive by continuing to share them with each other even after they go.
This makes my heart smile. Thank you and hugs to both you and Katie.
I'm sorry to hear about your mother-in-law. That timing really is bittersweet... But like you said: it's that bittersweet juxtaposition of events that amplifies the meaning of it all, in a way. And keeps us sharing and showing love.
Big hugs right back to you!
Thank you. It's the ultimate paying forward of our blessings and love. Xoxo
Your article hit home today with me, being 58 years old and just being released from the hospital (back fusion surgery). I feel for your loss of your father.
Happy birthday Becca,
I hope you have an uncomplicated and smooth recovery! I had knee surgery a few years ago, and all I can say is physical therapy is the best. Get as many sessions in as you can!
Thank you for the birthday wishes ❤️
Thank you, it’s a long process, and even more so if you are active. Much appreciated 😘
Thank you, Howard. I hope you have a smooth recovery!
Thank you very much long and very slow 😘
Loved your post - touched a nerve. I lost my father to cancer November 5th, 2020. I was pretty sure you were talking to me :)
Oh Mary, three years is no time at all. Sending you love ❤️
Thank you❤️
Thanks so much for sharing this. 🙏 It is something I try to resist every year at this time. My son died in a road crash on 13th November sixteen years ago and, like you said, I don't really fix the date in my head but it's like my body always remembers. I try to keep going but there needs to be a pause. I am still figuring out the best way to navigate it. This morning I dragged myself up the hill to the woods behind our house. I didn't try to make myself happy or lift myself up, I just noticed how I was feeling. Sad. I eventually stopped to sit a while on a wet bench. It was raining lightly. And there I cried for a bit. It's not dramatic. I don't need a witness but I do need to honour how I am feeling more instead of trying to fix it as I fix and adjust my public mask of optimism so everyone else feels comfortable.
Oh, Karen. Thank you for sharing this with us. My experiences aren't yours, and yet this resonated deeply. 🩷
💔
Karen, thank you for sharing. I am so very sorry for your loss. And I am so glad that you gave yourself the space to cry. I hope it helped, even a little ❤️
Such a moving post. I hope the birthday celebrations can ease some of the sorrow!
Thanks, Jeffrey. I started my day with a long phone call with my dear Becca and it was the salve we both needed!
Oh Katie. Thank you for sharing that photo of your dad with us. It's helping me feel my feelings (that I didn't even know I was having!) about my own dad, who, one month from today, died by suicide 22 years ago, on Dec 14, 2001. December 13, 2001, was the last time I saw him. I was 20 years old, three months since 9/11 and three weeks before my 21st birthday.
Thank you for the invitation to feel my feelings, Katie.
Oh, Rebecca, what an immense loss. My uncle (my dad’s brother) died by suicide and I know how complicated and painful that kind of loss can be. I’m proud of you for feeling your feelings! Thank you for sharing ❤️
❤️❤️❤️
Killer beard on that dad. Sending you big love.
This would have been his favorite comment
Thank you for sharing this sweet story.
My dad went into "comfort care" and then passed two days later, 5 years ago this past September. The day I rushed to fly home to make the official decision to do "comfort care" and to say my goodbyes was the start of a 3 day sequence I process/remember every year since. That first day is also the birthday of my chosen "mom" friend. It was also the day of the bridal shower I threw for my best friend, that i missed to go fly home. On the last day, when he passed, the Emmy awards were on TV in his hospital room. I'll never be able to disassociate the two events.
I too struggle with how to mark the occasion publicly. Personally we have our traditions to eat his favorite meal (chicken parm) and sometimes take a shot of what he was famous for -- peppermint schnapps. But publicly, I tend to just let it be. I can hear dad still telling me "I don't want to be all over that Facebook."
4 years after he passed, I quit my job of 11 years, on the middle day of that 3-day sequence. It was traumatic...and much more emotional knowing the anniversary it was overlapping. Once resignation was official I cranked up one of my dad's favorite songs, Johnny Paychecks's "take this job and shove it" and I cried.
I launched my substack this year around the same anniversary period, and thought I'd launch into that grief in my first posts, as if launching my substack would be a tribute to him. But I didn't. Probably cuz it wasnt. This comment here is the longest I've publicly written about it. Thank you for sharing the space so I could.
The universe and/or coincidence is funny in how things line up. In late 2019 I fell in love with my person, who I married in 2022. He shares the same first name as my dad, and his birthday is the day before my dad's. I too wish Dad could have met him.
I don't know if there will ever be a time when marking anniversaries publicly will ever feel right. But I find comfort in knowing he never wanted the spotlight on him anyhow. Hugging him mentally, and getting my flu shot every year (a fun dad story for another time...maybe that's the post?), seems to be the best remembrance for now.
Xoxo
Oh I would love to hear the flu shot story someday! In the meantime, chicken parm and peppermint schnapps sounds like a pretty great way to honor a pretty great guy. I’m sorry for your loss ❤️💔❤️
Flu shots, cell phones, and "let's make a deal" ...stay tuned! 😉
Thanks, Katie.
Sending warm hugs Katie. Thank you for sharing!
Thank you, Val!
Happy Belated, Becca! Our bodies and minds are so strange and fascinating. I hope both of you and your families can find ways to ride the waves of grief. Honestly just thought how isolating grief can be because everyone will experience it their own way within a group of loved ones. So I really hope everyone finds a way that works for them and they feel no shame around. <3
Amen to that, Cierra!
Great post. I really resonate with this one. I too have had to learn how to sit with my sadness. Feeling it helps even if it is painful. Sending hugs to you. It's a tough time of year for me as well. I get it. ♥️
Sending you love, Laura. xo
Katie,
This is a beautiful post. I still feel like something is wrong with me when I feel sad. I appreciate the reminder to be kind and tender to myself. Thank you for telling us about your dad and sharing your vulnerable motherhood story.
Thanks, Mary ❤️
❤️❤️❤️so much love to you. I love how the universe gave you healing and death in parallel. So mysterious this life. Exquisitely written as usual.
Thank you, Karen! And I love how you sprinkled hearts throughout the comment section. You’re wonderful ❤️
Feel the feels. Sending love. ❤️
Thank you ❤️
I am so sorry your Dad left this world so early. 💔 please continue to take the time and space to feel your feelings. Grief as you know shows up in strange ways. Sending you so much love. Thank you for this newsletter. I honestly look forward to it weekly.
That is such a kind thing to say. Thank you, Wendy! You’re the best ❤️
Happy birthday, Becca!!!
Thank you, Terrell!!