The Anniversaries of Death

It's been 436 days since Eric passed away.  One year and two months.  62 weeks and 1 day.  To be honest, I'm not sure some days how we got this far.  A part of me "knows" but a part of me does not.

In those early days and weeks, two pieces of advice became a profound stepping stone on this journey.

First, do not make any major decisions during the first year of losing a loved one.

The second was "do the next thing".  

I remember hearing the first one from the priest at my local Parish.  Trust me, I wanted to take my boys and run away.  To where?  I don't know.  I felt like I wanted to run and run and run.  I wanted to crawl out of my skin.  I wanted to be anywhere but here (then, in that present moment).

The second piece of advice I heard at a grief support group.  One of the lovely people there was recounting the beginning days for herself and how she had heard that advice.  "Do the next thing".  If that next thing was to brush your teeth, then do that.  If it was sitting up in bed, do that.  If it was a drive to the grocery store, do that.  Don't focus on things too far out, for they will get overwhelming.  But doing the next thing?  I could do that!  

There were certainly days I had to say that over and over in my mind just to get out of bed in the morning.  There were many times I had to say that over and over to cook dinner (cut the onion, boil the water, stir the pot).  Those days each small step was a huge step.  Those steps moved me forward.

I look back at this past year and am amazed that we have moved through life and arrived here.  There are days it is bearable, then there are still days that the sadness is just a deep sense of emptiness.  It is easier to function now than it was a year ago, but the longing is still there.  

I remember walking through the days of this past year and so many things were reminders or anniversaries of August 20th.  At first, it was the days (that first week, it was the days!).  One day has passed since you left.  2 days have passed.  3,4,5,6 days have passed.  Then it became Fridays.

I hated and dreaded Fridays.  It was a Friday night when we learned.  I was fearful of Fridays.  Was something bad going to happen the next Friday, or the next, or the next?  "This" Friday has been a week.  The next Friday, 2 weeks.  The next, 3 weeks.  I hated Fridays for months!  I did not want to sleep.  I didn't want to miss out on life because it was so clear how fragile and short it is.  Anxiety would come over me and I'd be awake until almost sunrise on a Saturday morning.  I had made it to a Saturday.  The next thing!

Then the month anniversary came.  How had we journey one month?  It was so long and it was so short.  But we had made it.  The 20th of each month.  That same fear that I had on Fridays, transferred to the 20th of each month.  Was something else bad going to happen?  Was the phone going to ring and give me bad news?  That anxiety and dread would come over me again and again for months and months.

Then August of this year (2022) arrived.  August 1st.  I wanted August to stop.  The year anniversary was approaching.  19 days away.  I dreaded each day it got closer.  That same old anxiety reared its head.  Was something bad going to happen on the 20th?  Was something going to happen to my boys or me, or my mom or sister, or family or friends.  I dreaded each day that came to pass.  My stomach stayed in knots.  I focused on my boys and work to help calm my nerves.  We did things to keep our minds occupied but that day was fast approaching.

The 20th arrived.  I held my breath all day.  We ate at a local restaurant that was special to Aaron and Eric.  We went to Eric's favorite place: Jessie's.  Our friends met us and we drank soda and talked about memories.  I took a picture of the Celebration of Life poster from the previous year.  We looked at a local antique shop to help ease the sadness.  That evening, we used tickets that had been gifted to us to see Shrek: The Musical.  The boys brought a friend.  We all laughed so hard and had such a good time.  I felt so guilty for laughing.  But I was happy that my boys laughed and enjoyed themselves!  Night came, sleep descended, and I exhaled.

We had made it one year!  That is a huge step.  All those anniversaries, there were tears, lots of tears, but we faced each one of them.  We continue to do so.  I absolutely will not say and do not believe the cliche that time heals all wounds or it gets easier with time.  That simply is not true.  That wound is always there.  The sadness is never far from our hearts.  

What does happen is this: You cherish each day.  You reset priorities.  You realize what is really important.  You bear it.  It becomes bearable.  You can function again, and you can laugh (even if you feel guilty), but it's okay to laugh!  You find your passion again, though it is never quite the same.  You learn to live with the sadness, to channel it into a positive.  

The anxiety is still there.  Sometimes I think it is worse now.  I am sure more intensified because the boys and I are looking at a life change: Moving to Ohio.  I'm ready for a change.  I just love my job and that makes it difficult to leave Florida.  

No matter what path we end up taking, time will still pass.  It won't wait on us.  We have to face each day.  We have to do the next thing.  We have to live again.  And I know that is what Eric would have wanted.