A special welcome to anyone who is new to The Grieving Room. We meet every Monday evening. Whether your loss is recent or many years ago, whether you have lost a person or a pet, or even if the person you are "mourning" is still alive ("pre-grief" can be a very lonely and confusing time) you can come to this diary and process your grieving in whatever way works for you. Share whatever you need to share. We can't solve each other's problems, but we can be a sounding board and a place of connection.
Previous diaries in this series.
Also, there's a good article from Slate.com about grieving. Reading about other people's grief helps me learn ways to help others, and ways to help myself.
Warning: I am heading to a rehearsal at 7pm PST, but I will be here before that time, and will check in as I can later on.
Today I thought I'd talk about sad anniversaries. Celebrating them, recognizing them, ignoring them- they're there and we mark them somehow.
Three years ago today my grandmother died after 90 full and happy years. She was married for over 50 years to my grandfather, who died many years ago, and then for over 10 years to an old family friend who had lost his wife some years earlier. She had had pneumonia a few times, but always rallied and said she was interested in continuing to live. However this time, when she went into the hospital, she said she was ready to go. My mother and uncle and I were with her, and I was holding her hand when she stopped breathing.
One year later I thought about her on that day as I went about my work, and had mostly got past my grief at the end of such a long life, and was thinking about happy memories I had with her, and thinking what a cool grandmother I'd had.
The next day I got a call from my mother that my uncle had died in a motorcycle accident the previous day. He was fairly young, had finally got himself onto a drug cocktail that was controlling his AIDS, though he had AIDS-related diabetes. The diabetes, and the extremely low blood sugar, was what caused the crash. For a long time I was angry with him for not taking care, for going off and leaving my mother without any close family at all other than myself, for not preparing for his death in any way with a will or even a draft of what he wanted done with his money, and a house full of STUFF.
The next year, a year ago, I was completely freaked out on February 23rd. I gathered up my husband and he and I went to spend the day with my parents. We were quiet and companionable, and I was glad I had the chance to spend the day with them. My father hadn't been in the best of health, and in fact he went into the hospital just under a year ago with an episode of the internal bleeding he died from a few months ago.
This year, I am much more at peace about my grandmother than I was. I am thinking with fondness about my uncle and am not so angry with him for up and leaving us so suddenly, and realizing that he loved motorcycle riding and was fortunate to have gone out so quickly, doing something he loved doing. I'm able to dwell more on his good qualities, instead of only thinking about what a jerk he admittedly was sometimes (my uncle made the best pumpkin pie I will ever eat, though he could get grumpy if we didn't tell him so every time he made one).
...
I'm still not sure what the best way to recognize such anniversaries is. I have lit candles, whether it's a real candle or a virtual candle. I have spent the day with family/loved ones. I have spent the day reflecting. I have gone through the day with memories sitting like a ghost on my shoulder.
One thing I have learned, however, is that each death, each anniversary, must be approached as its own unique event, or I have set up too many expectations for myself that are hard to meet. I can't say "oh, it's been 5 years since my sister died, therefore I will do X". For me, the way to properly nurture myself is to give myself permission to feel whatever it is that I'm feeling, to explore it, and to be mindful of myself and other people who may be grieving.
It's OK to be sad, peaceful, angry, reflective, upset, any emotion I can think of. I try not to expect other people to feel exactly the same way, or to expect them to know what I need, because we're all different.
Go hug someone today, please. Tell someone who means a lot to you that they do mean a lot to you. Hold someone in your heart.