When it comes at you sideways

Annual Stults Family BBQ 2013

For years after Dan died I hated the 12 of every month. Dan died on the 12th of January. Every time the 12th rolled around it was going to be an awful day. It marked another month that Dan was gone from this world. I planned very little for the 12 of each month and if possible nothing at all so I could hide in my hole, because it was an awful day. I knew it would be, I was expecting it. I run away to the beach every 12th of January because nothing good can come on that Day.

Everyone knows holidays are hard we expect them to be. We miss our loved ones on the holidays. It's a given. I've learned that my birthdays and Mothers day are gonna be a wash for me. My kid gets weird on those days, just weird, something about holidays for her mommy trigger her grief for her daddy. I haven't figured out why yet but I have definitely experienced it. Those special days fort me honestly suck and thats just the way it is now. It's no fun going out to dinner alone on my wedding anniversary so I don't. Then there are times 'when it comes at you sideways'  as my grief friend says. Times when your not expecting it, or times when you think its only going to hurt a little bit and it hurts a whole lot. 

Long ago and far away; before Covid, before my father in law Al died, Before my brother in law Rick died, before Dan died; we would have big family BBQ's every summer. The Annual Stults Family BBQ.  Hamburgers, hot dogs, Pat's famous potato salad, and homemade ice cream for dessert. The ice cream maker was old, but at least it was electric. "It came with the house" Pat says. Which means it belonged to Al's ex wife. So it was around 40 years old, but it still worked great.

The catch to homemade ice cream is that someone has to stand their and watch it in order to continually add salt and ice to keep it cold while it mixes. At least this one didn't have to be mixed by hand. This was Dan's job. Dan added ice, added salt, and got to lick the mixer when it was done. This has always been Dan's job ever since I met him. 

Dan died.

That summer we didn't have homemade ice cream, honestly I don't remember if we even had a BBQ that year. Everything was a blur and nothing was the same without Dan. The next year the kids asked if we were having homemade ice cream. Dan's mom just brushed it off ,"Nah not this year" Her and I both knew the truth though, she wasn't gonna make ice cream without Dan. The years passed, the kids stopped asking about home made ice cream. That tradition died with Dan, just like so many other things, we just didn't do it anymore. Six years and no homemade ice cream. 

A month or two ago my boyfriend Justin and I were having dinner at at Dan's mom's Pat's house. We do this almost weekly. Out of no where she started talking about how she would love to have some homemade ice cream sometime. She was explaining to Justin how you needed someone to watch it and add the salt and the ice frequently. AND THEN she said "Justin if you would do the salt and the ice for me we could make homemade ice cream." My chin dropped to the ground, well in my head anyway. I almost jumped out of my chair and said "Are you sure you want to do that?" But I didn't because I knew she knew that she did. She knew what she was asking.  I was kinda dumbfounded the rest of the night and Justin could tell.

When we got back to my house he asked me "Are you ok? Are you upset at me?" 

"No, no, no. I'm not upset, it's just, that was a big deal." Tears started leaking out of my eyes

"What was a big deal?"

"Pat asked you to make the ice cream"

"uh k" Clearly he didn't know what the big deal was. So I explained, "You need to consider it a huge honor to be asked to make the ice cream. That was Dan's job. Dan made the ice cream. We haven't made ice cream since Dan died. She wouldn't do it. She could have had any of the other boys make the ice cream and she never asked them. But tonight she asked you to make the ice cream."

Then he understood. 

The other day we made the ice cream. I was still thinking "are we sure we want to do this" Pat got out the ice cream maker, Justin put it all together and plugged it in. It wouldn't start. "It's a sign" I thought. I don't believe in signs, but I thought it anyway. "Maybe it's for the best" I said. Justin said "Hand me a screwdriver, I can fix it." A screw driver and some WD40 and he had it fixed in less than five minutes. Maybe that was a sign, Dan couldn't fix anything. I don't believe in signs.

That ancient ice cream machine started to turn, it's so loud you can barley talk in it's presence. Pat started to cry. I hugged Justin tight. We were making ice cream, without Dan. We are learning to live again, without Dan. 

That ice cream tasted so good. We sat in front of the fire and ate it. I've sat in that spot with Dan a million times. I wished he was there, even as I was sitting next to my amazing ice cream fixing boyfriend. I still wished for Dan. It's ok, I can love them both, they're both ok with it. 

Later that night I saw that Pat had posted this on Facebook;

"In the "before", we would make homemade ice cream at least once a year. It was always Dan's job to mind the ice cream maker and add ice and salt. In the "after" we haven't had homemade ice cream since Dan died. A while ago I asked Justin if he would be in charge of the ice cream if we made it. He agreed. Tonight we did it. Had to WD40 the motor a bit but Justin got it running. I was surprised at the emotion of it all for me. A torch has been passed. It's a good thing."

I showed the post to Justin and he said "I am honored to be a part of your's and Dan's family"

The ice cream came at us sideways.

I wrote a book about my grief. You can read it here