Nobody is ever prepared for grief. It doesn’t matter if a person you love loses a long battle with cancer or if you lose your child only 30 hours after she is born. You just can’t prepare for what comes afterward. And grief is as subjective as photography – everyone feels it differently and no two people experience it in the same way-so even if you have been through it and you try to prepare someone else for it, your efforts will be in vain and their grief will run the course it is meant to run.
My grief and Greg’s, for example, are completely different. When he is feeling Cora’s loss, he sits in one place and he cries until he is spent and then he picks himself up again and gets on with his day. When I am feeling it, the pain and sadness permeate everything I do and follow me around, like a low hung cloud, for days at a time. I function, but I’m in a sort of an angry haze the entire time and the only thing I can truly focus on is the emptiness in my chest – a hole that opened when she died and has never filled up again. Sometimes it feels as though I “wake up” and it’s days later and I have been functioning on auto pilot that entire time. Everytime I go through a period of grief, though, it is always slightly different than the previous times and it is always evolving and changing.
Yesterday was Cora’s birthday and although Greg spent some time grieving for her and all that could have been, I spent the entire day forcing myself to think about the good things – the adorable parts of her, how she had my big lips, how annoyed she was when the nurses put a breathing tube down her throat and she kept yanking it out (stubborn, just like her parents), how alert and loud she was when she was born, etc. I laughed a lot and I sang songs all day – especially her song, I’m Yours by Jason Mraz – and I did my best to keep myself feeling light because I had a feeling that today, the date that she died, would be as difficult as it ever is and I would be fall into the abyss as per usual.
I woke up this morning, knowing that today marks the third anniversary of Cora’s death, and my first thought was, “Fuck this! This day is no longer getting my grief or my attention. As far as I’m concerned, this day is now going back to being a day and nothing else.” Basically, I believe my soul is telling me that to give the date of Cora’s death significance, by referring to it as an “anniversary” is to give it the power to burden me with grief. Instead, from this moment on, I will put all of my love and energy into remembering her with intense love and gratitude on her birthday and forgetting that June 3rd has any significance at all. Just as I finally let go of my hatred of Thursdays (the day of the week that she died) when I realized how much that hatred was adding to my grief.
So, just like there is no more Fuck You Thursday, there will now be no more death anniversary or Angelversary or whatever the hell it’s called.
Today is just another day and yesterday was a good day, spent with my hubs and our pup in a nice little bubble of love. I’ll take that over endless sadness and pain any day of the week.
So, Happy Monday everyone. I hope this week starts off awesome and just keeps getting better for you and, of course, I wish you all enough…