One day at a time

After a storm, a rainbow promises a new day of hope.

And see? A lovely day is dawning. 

{thinking of you today, MW}

The AA motto, "One day at a time" is a good one. It can be put into practice in so many instances in our lives. Sometimes, when you are grieving, you just have to get through 1 minute at a time. And then the next minute, and so on. Sometimes the days just loom too large to even consider tackling in one fell swoop.

And some days loom larger than others. Birthdays and anniversaries. Since I am talking mainly about my own experiences here, please note that anniversary does not mean marriage. It is the anniversary of the death of a loved one. Some parents call it the "angelversary". Whatever you call it, it's a tough day to face down. I honestly don't remember the exact dates of death for my parents (or my Grandparents, my 1st experience with death). Well, no, not entirely true, my Sweet Grandmother died on New Year's Day. Maybe I remember that because it was a significant date, I don't know. But I sure remember the date my son died. And I think every grieving parent must be the same. 

What hubby and I have experienced about these dates is that the weeks leading up to them are far worse than the actual date itself (usually). I start getting edgy, moody, etc, a week or more before his birthday or the anniversary of his death. Sometimes a month in advance. The grief is suddenly fresh again, all those emotions come flooding back. The dates themselves, well, by the time they arrive, most of the bite has been taken out of them, used up in the previous weeks. I don't work either of those days, and spend each of those days differently. On his birthday, we (the whole family) usually go up to the meadow where his ashes are. We bring flowers sometimes (usually dried, hard to hike up a mountain with fresh flowers), and cupcakes and candles. We sing Happy Birthday to him, and leave a cupcake. We visit for awhile while Daphne explores the area. On the anniversary of his death, since it is 3 days before Christmas, the last two years I have spent the day making Christmas goodies to share with friends and neighbors and coworkers. I have found this to be very therapeutic for me. I think of Tim, I listen to Christmas music, and I put my love into these goodies to share. Both days have tears and laughter, but they do not have the stress and anguish that the days leading up to them did. At least not for me.

And on neither of those days do I ever have thoughts and memories of the night he died. Those dark things come to me in the darkest times of the night, when my heart and soul are unsettled. Not something I care to dwell on ever, but especially not in the brightness of day. Sometimes I try to pray them away, sometimes I let them in. And I roll with the punches some more...

Peace.