August 10

Until not that long ago, August 10 was just an ordinary special day.   Embued with elevated status because it is my husband’s birthday, it has always borne the accoutrements of celebration.

Birthdays have always been important in our family.   Gifts?  Not so much.  Time in celebration?  You bet.  I would make coconut cream pie, a favorite to anticipate this once in the year.  We would gather for a special meal around a dining room table set with the china and my mother's silver.  Often, guests would join the party.  To take advantage of summer, we might eat on the patio, linger over a mug of beer or a glass of wine with neighbours, while away the afternoon and evening chatting.   Now and then, we might change it up—a car show, supper on the lake in the city with friends or family.  In 2006, we had cake on the cliff on the isle of Capri.

From the get-go, my husband shared the August 10 magic with a a friend and neighbor, one year older.  That friendship has endured through the years.  Over the last decade, though, others have laid claim to August 10.   The daughter of our niece (and godchild) was born on August 10, as was our grandson’s cousin on his mother’s side.  When August 10 rolls around now, we think of three other people.

In the last five years, a shadow has tinted the aura around August 10.  People die on this day.  My godmother, Janine, died on August 10 in 2013.   The link to my tribute to her (August, 2013, Strength) is here.  Three years later, the director of education who first hired me (at the time, those individuals were called superintendents), an elegant and magnetic individual in his nineties, with a calm, reassuring manner, passed away on this very day.  At the request of his wife, I played and sang Ave Maria at his funeral, a significant musical stretch for me. 

Just this past August 10,  last week, Charlie, my husband’s music partner over the last three years, passed away.   An agressive and pervasive cancer claimed him only six weeks  after diagnosis.   A gifted musician with a mellow approach to life, generous in sharing his time and abilities, he was an ideal partner for Elmer.  Together, they brightened the days of countless individuals with limited opportunities to get around.  Just such an occasion at St. Paul’s Lutheran Home is described in my post, Teleportation (October, 2017).  In response to a request from the family for stories for Charlie’s grandchildren,  Elmer has written a moving elegy to Charlie.   Check it out in the preceding post.

Curious, isn’t it?  And there’s no explanation, either.     Astrological sources (more curiosity) indicate that August 10 is "an extremely potent time,"  and that the configuration represents "a form of a cold passage that one needs to go through to reach for the light of the Sun."  That’s interesting.   August 10 is known as a pathway to the sun, to the light.  In birth, the light of life, I imagine; in death, the light of the spirit, of eternal life with God, believers would say.

Right now, I’m thinking this coincidence of life events assures our connection to six very special people.  When August 10 rolls around, how can we not ask how the girls born on this day are doing? How can we not think of Elmer's childhood friend?  How can we not remember those close to us who passed away?  How can their lives not touch us deeply?

August 10 will continue to be a celebration of the lives of special individuals.  It’s just that a few of those individuals will be with us in spirit.