This summer our pool hasn’t gotten much use. My last time in was mid-July, just before Dad took his final turn, and since then, thanks to a combination of rainy weather and lack of any sort of celebratory reason for taking a dip, I’ve not gone into the water. At first it wasn’t intentional, just a rotten stretch of simply not feeling up for it. Then it became a thing, where I felt almost guilty about indulging in something that once brought me pleasure. Foolish all around, I know, but that’s where my head was at.
Now it’s October. And the days have soared into the 80’s with lots of sun. Andy had heated the pool back up and went in a few times, easing his back and making the most of this throwback to summer. I held back for a bit while I listened for the whispered invitation of the universe, beckoning me to rejoin the living.
My therapist said if I’m having a good day, and it feels right to indulge in fun things again, I should go with it. I realized she was right. There would always be time to grieve, while sunny and warm days in October are rare. And my father had a pool not for himself, as he rarely went in, but for the enjoyment of his family. It would be nice to continue that dream for a while. The next day I went in…
