Holes

This is the time of year when families take down the old calendar from whatever centralized location it is posted in the house and put up a new, fresh calendar for the coming year. Our calendar was always hung in the kitchen. Colby and I would write our appointments and commitments on the calendar, and mark birthdays and holidays more as a way of keeping track of each other than as a way of keeping track of our own appointments.

For example, because Colby marked it on the calendar I knew that the last Friday afternoon of every month he rode in a community bike ride that departed from Nashville's West End area. And, because I wrote down when I was scheduled to be at a local therapeutic riding program that I teach at, Colby just had to look at the calendar to estimate what time I would be home.

This year, in 2010, there will be no calendar. This year, there is no need. I keep track of most of my appointments in my head and those that are scheduled more than a few weeks out I note in my computer. In years past, my mom has given us a calendar as a Christmas gift. This year, without speaking about it, there was no calendar. No gift to help keep track of each other. This year, there is no other. There is just me.

In a few days I will take down the calendar for 2009 and there will be a bare spot on the kitchen wall. As the calendars were hung with push pins there are a number of tiny holes in the wall, close together, each a little higher than the previous one. That way the new calendar would cover all the holes from the previous years. I should fill in the holes, or maybe cover them with something un-calendar like. Or, maybe I will just leave them as a reminder of all the holes in my life now that Colby is no longer here. Either way the holes inside me will remain, a permanent reminder of the biggest loss any parent can face.