August

August and Me playing guitar and mandolin with family

The last time I spoke with August he called me while I was out of town on work.  I use to call August often, probably drove him crazy.  He rarely called me.  I’d been trying to see him for weeks but he kept breaking our plans and was hard to get a hold of.  I had just gotten off a plane and was waiting for my luggage when my phone rang.  It was completely unexpected and made me so happy.   I can’t remember all that was said, but I remember the tone was happy, non-combative,  comfortable, devoid of any of the tension that had plagued our conversations for the past few years.   One thing I do remember is that he was going through a meal line at the school cafeteria while we spoke, and he interrupted the conversation for a moment as he spoke to the check out girl.  He was so polite, sweet;  I remember feeling so proud of him,  so many college students have a sense of entitlement that they think gives them license to be rude to people in the service industry,  but not Aug.  He treated people with a genuine respect, kind of a hippie love that was so disarming.

Two days later August was gone and I was numb.  I flew home sobbing hysterically, out of my mind with grief.  When I landed I checked my voice mail and found that August  had called me shortly before we talked that final time. I am a moron who’s never figured out how to check voice mail when my phone is roaming.  Also,  my phone doesn’t record who called when I turn it off.   It’s rare that August would call me once, but to call me twice after leaving a message is truly miraculous;  he never did that before.  Had he just called once and left a message, we would have never spoken because I was unable to get the message until he was gone.  I don’t know why August reached out to me then or why he chose that time to reconcile.   I cherish that final conversation as one of the sweetest gifts I ever received.  Maybe God whispered in Aug’s ear saying “You love your dad,  you need to let him know.  Don’t put it off.”  I am so grateful to August and God for making that connection.  At times I’ve felt like there is no God and life hold no meaning, then I think of that miraculous phone call which has done more to make me believe in a loving God than anything else since August’s death.  It wasn’t closure, but it was ending on a positive note of love and acceptance.  I can live with that,  I don’t think I could live with out it.