"The punctuation of anniversaries is terrible, like the closing of doors, one after another between you and what you want to hold on to."
Anne Morrow Lindbergh
This quote is why I think death anniversaries are difficult. You start to forget the way your loved one smelled; with out pulling out their cologne, perfume or deoderant to remind you. You begin to forget the lines in their face or the expressions that you so often had to read because they weren't ready to express their feelings; without grabbing a photo. The things that remind you of your loved one during the season of their death often elicits negative memories of each change in medicine, every turn for the worse; rather than a happy memory before they were ill. The doors seem to slam loudly and clammer in your head as the days that they were alive a year ago become fewer in your memory. The date of their death closes in quickly and for my family the end wasn't sunshine and rainbows.
It stings to remember that time of my Dads life (and my life for that matter). I went to a housewarming party a few weeks ago and missed the turn. I ended up at River Road. River Road when the colors were all changing and pumpkins were on porches. The same River Road that I drove once, twice, three times a day last October. It took all of my courage, all of my strength to turn around, wipe the tears and attend the party. That reminder, one that I wasn't anticipating, brought back that feeling of not being able to catch my breath.
Admittedly, the times that I feel like I have to gasp to breathe are becoming less frequent with each day. I have learned to prepare for the reminders that will most certainly always trigger the feeling of loss. Some of the triggers I have even managed to tie a happy memory to it in my mind. For example when I think about the ill effects of brain tumors I try to remember the time that my Dad could not find his wallet. He made me search EVERYWHERE! It was in the refridgerator. Because of little stories that I have attached to the not so perfect stories, I can often avoid the overflowing of tears if it is not convenient to let them fall.
I wasn't ready to think about Hospice when I noticed that I was at River Road. Deep breath.
This weekend I talked to a bestie about the upcoming anniversary. Her loved one has been gone for nearly four years and she still remembers what she was doing in the days and weeks before her Mom passed. She still has that can't breathe feeling when she isn't expecting it.
We met a young man this weekend that lost his Dad 18 years ago. He still has triggers that make him soul search, make him gasp for air.
Anniversaries of death will always be a trigger.
I think you can compare this trigger to 9/11. Everyone knows where they were, who they were with, what they were doing and most importantly how it impacted thier lives. It is not any different when you lose someone very dear to you. You remember where you were standing when you received the call, who was with you and who you had to tell next. Life seemed to stand still and it was blurry and confusing and overwhelming.
It stings to remember that time of my Dads life (and my life for that matter). I went to a housewarming party a few weeks ago and missed the turn. I ended up at River Road. River Road when the colors were all changing and pumpkins were on porches. The same River Road that I drove once, twice, three times a day last October. It took all of my courage, all of my strength to turn around, wipe the tears and attend the party. That reminder, one that I wasn't anticipating, brought back that feeling of not being able to catch my breath.
Admittedly, the times that I feel like I have to gasp to breathe are becoming less frequent with each day. I have learned to prepare for the reminders that will most certainly always trigger the feeling of loss. Some of the triggers I have even managed to tie a happy memory to it in my mind. For example when I think about the ill effects of brain tumors I try to remember the time that my Dad could not find his wallet. He made me search EVERYWHERE! It was in the refridgerator. Because of little stories that I have attached to the not so perfect stories, I can often avoid the overflowing of tears if it is not convenient to let them fall.
I wasn't ready to think about Hospice when I noticed that I was at River Road. Deep breath.
This weekend I talked to a bestie about the upcoming anniversary. Her loved one has been gone for nearly four years and she still remembers what she was doing in the days and weeks before her Mom passed. She still has that can't breathe feeling when she isn't expecting it.
We met a young man this weekend that lost his Dad 18 years ago. He still has triggers that make him soul search, make him gasp for air.
Anniversaries of death will always be a trigger.
I think you can compare this trigger to 9/11. Everyone knows where they were, who they were with, what they were doing and most importantly how it impacted thier lives. It is not any different when you lose someone very dear to you. You remember where you were standing when you received the call, who was with you and who you had to tell next. Life seemed to stand still and it was blurry and confusing and overwhelming.
Did you know that Hospice sends the primary contact a card for the death anniversary? Since the address listed with this service is ours, we still receive my moms mail from them. The other day she opened it and it was a card that said on the front "On the anniversary of your loved ones death". To me this is strange! I have read a few books on grief and often page through the mailings from Hospice and I suppose everyone remembers and acknowledges the day of death and the days and weeks leading up to that day, too.
But really, a card that says it right on the front? Seems odd to me, but thoughtful in the same breath. My friends have all asked how I'm doing this month. They all remember approximately the time or even the exact day of my Dads death. I think the line or phrase I would suggest is something like:
I remember that your dad has been gone a year today (or soon, or this month-whatever day or week or month it is). (Personal memory if you have one. Example: I cherish my memories of eating spaghetti with a houseful of my best friends once a week during basketball season. Your mom always went to such an effort to make sure everyone was well fed and genuinely seemed happy to have 10 girls invade her house, burp loudly and be obnoxious.)If there is anything I can do to help, please let me know.
I don't know, something to that effect is what I think is the best way to approach the subject...if you feel compelled to say something. If you have a personal memory of the lost loved one I think that's a good time to share it, too. (I DO NOT WANT EVERYONE POSTING COMMENTS ON FB-FYI)
Anyways, this is my head today, a few days before the first year anniversary of death of my Dad. I am doing ok. I was able to enjoy a wonderful wedding weekend with my husband and some of my very best friends. We have plans every night this week that the children are looking forward to. I have a GREAT costume for our Halloween party. I get to spend lots of quality time with my monsters and Aaron next week. I'm breathing and smiling and laughing. When I needed people to step up for me, they did. Most will never fully understand how much they mean to me.
The first year is difficult, but I'm almost to the end and I know my Daddy would be proud:)
The first year is difficult, but I'm almost to the end and I know my Daddy would be proud:)
Just Breathe
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