The fall has become my least favorite season though Bay Area weather is often at it’s finest in September and early October. It’s a season of grief triggers. This year is the third anniversary of life changing.

My father was hit by a car while cycling on the other side of the US on October 30, 2018, helivaced to the closest trauma ICU. I spent Halloween numbly watching my son’s school Halloween parade, carving pumpkins. We came in from trick-or-treating to talk to hear the neurosurgeon’s evaluation of the 24h brain scans (no change - not good). I flew to Florida to see him, then a day or two later, Sam and Theo flew to join. We celebrated Theo’s second birthday on November 4th, and on the 5th withdrew Dad’s ventilator.

Theo’s glee is at Halloween and his birthday is so entwined with my grief. I’m sure grieving and parenting is never simple for anyone, but this is the most complex week of the year for me. Many other family members have died before and since, yet this was a much different grief. Some combination of the nature of the loss (shocking), my job, Theo’s age, and my personality/coping styles means that I have had difficulty making space for feeling and processing. I started a habit of taking these 5 days off from work, sending Theo to school, and trying to make space for the feelings while he’s away. Yet today is a Saturday, so I’ve had to make do.

I didn’t really know what to do or how choose rituals to honor this day the first year. But I realized I’ve developed habits based on things that feel right for honoring Dad and making space for feelings.

I started by getting acupuncture. Acupuncture was one of those things I had never tried previously, but in the wake of loss I was willing to try anything. At the least, it gives me time and space to just be, without performing or distraction.

I’ve seen the movie Coco a few times since Dad died (including today). In addition to loving the music of Coco (as my musical-loving father would have), I newly appreciate how the Mexican tradition of Día de los Muertos combines celebration and honoring loss. While other family members put finishing touches on Theo’s Halloween costume, I used a little space in my “office” (e.g. the 3 feet between my bed and the wall/roof) to assemble some photos and things of my father’s, and pull out some grief books I want to read this week. I typically read a non-fiction book about grieving (this time it’s The Five Invitations by Frank Ostaseski, who was a co-founder of the Zen Hospice Project and lives on a houseboat nearby). Then I made ginger cookies Dad loved (my own recipe loosely based on this triple ginger and this giant ginger recipe). I showed Theo the book I made with the photos I have of them together. Then we carved pumpkins.

This coming week, I’m hoping to start my mornings with yoga or meditation and journaling, for grounding. This year I got a new grief journal, in addition to my normal one - journaling was also a habit I developed to process this new experience. I am hoping to get in a few long hikes or bike rides too - partly because it gives me alone time to process, and partly because I’m craving exercise time. I’ll listen to videos with Dad’s voice, wear his Tilley hat and bright orange merino, and hike a 6-mile loop to Slacker Hill and back. I’ll read those grief books (and my regular fiction), and perhaps attempt some long-procrastinated mundane household tasks.

Somewhere in there I also want to make Theo’s birthday cake/cupcakes. We’re pulling him out of school for his birthday and taking him to the Exploratorium for the first time (which my father also would have loved), then getting him take-out sushi (which my father would have hated).

Ultimately, as my acupuncturist said, this is a tender time. My goal is to have space to allow feelings to flow through, neither ignoring nor wallowing. Both pain and joy, both past and present, all in a tangled moment.