Anniversaries and friendships

Something with those of us who have experienced the loss of a parent know all too well, is the anticipation of anniversaries. This can come in the biggest or smallest forms. I remember so clearly for the first year after my dad passed away fixating on the small anniversaries – a week, two weeks, the first month, three and six months. The eighth day of every month completely haunted me, as each time it marked another set amount of time which had passed. Every time I felt guilty for not doing something to mark it. Now, exactly two years on, the eighth day of every month often passes me by without even realising. It’s the big anniversaries that cause pain now – my dad’s birthday, father’s day and the eight of November. It took enough time passing for me to realise that time was always going to pass, and just because that one specific date held so much weight, it did not mean I always had to mark it. 

Marking anniversaries feels entirely different for everybody who is dealing with grief. Some of us wish to acknowledge it, to celebrate it even. Others will spend the days before filled with fears of dread and upset. And once the day has passed, what happens then? Do we forget about our grief until the following year? It’s not like a birthday where you wake up, open presents, maybe eat some nice food and cake, perhaps get a bit emotional as the day draws to a close and realise you are one year older. Then your birthday becomes largely forgotten until the next year, relatively unimportant until your birthday month comes round again. But death anniversaries are not like this. I often find that my brain struggles to cope with knowing that there is one specific day where I “have” to be sad. What if I want to be sad on other days, or not on that day? Moments of grief and sadness likely affect us in overwhelming capacities at random points. So, my message to people struggling with anniversaries – never feel guilty if you can’t quite face a regimented day or time to “feel sad.”

It was the two-year anniversary of my dad’s passing last week. A day that I did not know how I would feel. It wasn’t the first of its kind, but rather the first time that another tally would be added to the list of how much time had passed. It was a confusing day. I felt sad, disordered, and both emotional and emotionless. Friends didn’t reach out in the ways I expected, and a weird paradox for me that becomes so apparent on anniversaries has been finding more support from friends who didn’t even know me during the time of my dad’s passing. I never feel like there should be an expectation for people to go over the top on such days, but a simple message or acknowledgement goes a long way. I simply tell myself that as more and more time passes, the likelihood is that less and less people will reach out. We all have our own lives and often we become so wrapped up that these sorts of things pass us by without remembering. But sometimes it does feel like a punch in the stomach. Perhaps there is more emotional distance between what happened and these new friends. But I also feel that I have changed so much since my dad passed, and making new friendships since then reflects a stronger part of me that attracts likeminded people.