Birthday + 9 = what?

“A year of ‘firsts’”; it’s how many people refer to the first year after the death of a loved one.

 

My Dad in his 20's with my cousin.

It's actually a time of first “withouts”. So it was the year after my Dad died.

I remember: my first birthday without Dad; the first Easter without Dad making his mushrooms; the first summer without Dad planting some tomatoes; the first time I called home and he wasn’t there; the first time Mom signed the Christmas card just “Love Mom”; then, the first anniversary of Dad’s death.

I flew home to Toronto to be with family on that day – February 8^th, 2004.  It was just 9 days after the anniversary of Dad’s birthday - he would have been 81 years old. 

Birthday+9 =Death Day.  Weird concept - birthday and deathday....

We didn’t particularly talk a lot about Dad during our special family dinner, or during the visit to the grave. I was relieved because for me, it was still too painful to think and talk about Dad. It would have meant admitting that he had died. It was a little like Joan Didions' book "The Year of Magical Thinking."

Fast forward to February 8^th, 2013 and ten years of anniversaries. Over those years I’ve learned that it’s important for me to acknowledge Dad’s death each year as a milestone in my own life. This year I put a special memorial notice into the Toronto Star (John Kurchak).

 On other anniversaries of Dad's death day I’ve:

·        Written a letter to Dad, and then burned it out in the yard

·        Lit a candle at dinner

·        Called and talked with other family members

·        Told other people the significance of the day

·        Played the piano and sung one of Dad’s favourite songs, “Tumbalalaika”

·        “talked” to Dad to give him an update what’s been going on in my life

·        Set up photos and mementoes in a display – similar to Mexican Day of the Dead rituals

·        Dedicated a charitable donation in Dad’s name

·        Re-read Sympathy cards and the eulogy from his funeral

·        Looked through photo albums of Dad

·        Told stories about Dad to my partner who never met my Dad

·        Set aside time alone to just remember tender moments – a gesture, the sound of Dad’s voice, words of encouragement, his face when I’d come in the house after a year away….

We never break the bonds we have with those we’ve loved. After a death, we hold the connection in our memories, and through recognition of  the impact on our life. Sometimes we see similarities between us and the departed; my Dad cried at movies – so do I. 

The first anniversary of a death may be one of the most difficult. Your memories of the actual death may still be raw and painful. Be gentle with yourself. Give yourself permission to do whatever you need to do. Drink lots of water – you’re likely re-grieving. Find ways to acknowledge your feelings for your loved one – use one of mine, or even better, create a new one that works for you. Take one moment at a time as necessary.

One last word. The first year of grieving is just that – the first year. In the second year, you’re still on the journey of learning to live in a world without your loved one. Be patient. You’re on the right track, dear friends. 

In memory of Dad and Patrick.

Warmly

Wendy