Full circle

Family beach photo from 2006.

Some things come back. Some things make a full circle.

Haircut styles. Clothes. Whatever pop culture of the moment.

So, too, do people. I had a full circle moment shortly before turning 62 on July 20. (Hard to imagine — I lost 40 years somewhere.)

Around 1966, my dad bought several houses from property near the University of North Alabama in Florence. The school was clearing land to make room for new dormitories, I’m told. Dad had them moved to his land, 5 miles away, and turned them into rental properties.

On the day I write this column, my daughter, Baylee, is overseeing the cleanout of two of those houses, getting them ready for me to sell. She, by the way, is a librarian at the University of North Alabama.

Full circle, 60 years later.

Oh, and the space in between 1966 and 2026 — life. But looking at 20-year spans in particular, I graduated from UNA in 1986. And in December 1986 I married Dorinda. We would have celebrated our 40th anniversary this year. Cancer said no.

Flash forward to 2006. We celebrated our 20th anniversary that year. While at the beach that summer, we had a family portrait made, enlarged and framed. We did the thing where we wore matching tan shorts and white shirts. You know. Our children were ages 13 and 9. More about that picture in a moment.

I also have made a comeback of sorts over the past year. I’m a different person in many ways than I was last July. I have not moved past my grief over losing Dorinda. There are still days. And nights.

A year ago, it was difficult to breathe.

Now, I am trying to move forward. Trying to steady my walking ability through regular exercise and daily swimming, a benefit of living here. I’ve completed my book, "Caledonia and Me," about how one life affects another. And another. My dad is the engine of the book, I’m the narrator and Dorinda, well, she’s the heart of it.

I welcomed my fourth grandchild in May, a baby girl named Rynn. She will forever carry part of her Dee Dee’s name who she never met on this Earth — DoRINda. I’ve watched my other three grandchildren grow and develop. I still smile when they run toward me yelling, “Pop Pop.”

I’m fortunate to still be here, surviving a crash in March on I-65 that could have very easily ended a different way.

I’ve made new friends, reconnected with others. There have been disappointments, setbacks, lessons learned. There have been concerts and baseball games.

Laughs and tears. Sunrises and sunsets.

Life.

Writing this column for Gulf Coast Media has given me a way to put my grief in words, or at least try. If it’s benefited one person traveling a similar path, I’m glad.

She would have liked that.

Now, onward and upward to see what 62 holds. In my mind, I’m still 22 in many ways. But I have more wisdom now than I did 40 years ago.

You know, it’s strange seeing that figure on a page. Sixty-two. And it hurts seeing it alone.

Maybe I’m not alone.

Oh, back to the framed picture. It’s perhaps my most prized possession among material things. Me kneeling, our children kneeling on either side of me. Dorinda behind me, smiling, with her arms wrapped around me. As beautiful as ever.

The large-framed picture had been in storage since I moved here last July.

Today, I hung it inside my condo. And smiled.

Full circle.