So I’ve been told that the anniversary of a death approaches slowly and steadily, loud, rumbling to a deafnening roar like a road train.
I can already feel the vibrations of it approaching. Making my stomach tighten further.
I find it strange that people want to mark the anniversary of a loved one’s death. I accept that people can and should do whatever brings them comfort and helps them to grieve, and that is a VERY personal thing. But, “that day”?
Why would I want to remember that day? The frantic dashes in taxis and running through airports. The smell and colour of iodine on skin. Beloved hair, shaved for sensors. Familiar, warm hands that won’t squeeze back. Lips that don’t kiss me back. Removing a wedding band from swollen fingers.
I don’t need anyone or anything to remind me of that day. I don’t think anyone who has expereinced a sudden, traumatic loss does. Images of it flash into my mind at any moment; unpredictable, random, unwanted. Like a flash of lightning. Accompanied by a thunderous punch in the belly and nausea.
Please:
– don’t call me because it’s “that day”
– don’t hug me harder or longer than usual because it’s “that day”
– don’t tell me you’re thinking of me because it’s “that day”
– don’t look at me with a pained expression and squeeze my hand because it’s “that day”.
I don’t need those things from you today.
I need them on every other normal, painful, mundane day when I crave his hugs and his voice and his laugh and his hand holding mine in bed as I fall asleep and, most of all, his energy.
On that day, I just want to be left alone. To get on with it as best I can, however I choose to spend it and however I can block out the thundering roar.
Please, honour him however you wish and in a way that brings you comfort.
I’ll be marking days that mean something to me and meant something to him; his birthday, our wedding anniversary. His skydiving anniversary. The days that brought him joy.
March 2, 2016 at 12:55 am
I mark “that day” because I’m celebrating MY survival as much as mourning the fact that he didn’t. Getting through it warrants celebration and I know he would want me to celebrate.
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March 2, 2016 at 12:58 am
Thanks for sharing your perspective Jen
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October 8, 2017 at 6:01 pm
I understand. Just because it’s the day he died doesn’t make it any harder than other days or moments. It’s another reminder for sure thats he’s gone, but so are things like the food he used to like, a smell, a place you visited together, a t-shirt…
I am afraid of special days (birthday / anniversary) but I have yet to experience them without him. I would hope that like the reminders i can breathe through them and feel what i need to feel. Celebrate the happiness of them as well. After all, i am still grateful.
People will always try to comfort you when they think you need it in the hope that they’re doing the right thing. Sometimes they will be spot on and sometimes its totally inappropriate timing. They’re just guessing. After all, one can only imagine and never truly know your grief and its unpredictability. All we do know is that the intention is good. We must remember, there is no handbook for this shit show. And if we were to write one, all of our experiences would be unique.
x
Shayni
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November 16, 2017 at 2:35 am
I totally agree Shayni. Happy we have run into each other x
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