I catch my breath at this time of year when I notice the chill in the air and realise that we are heading for Autumn. The Canadian geese gather on Looe island at this time of year and they fly over a couple of times a day in their familiar vee formation honking their way across the bay. Autumn, especially sunny and crisp Autumn days, used to be my favourite days. I have Scottish blood and the heat of Summer, especially this record breaking Summer, is not really my thing. So what I have always liked is the end of Summer but those precious sunny days in September and October. Until everything changed.
The anniversary of my son’s death looms and I don’t know why it matters so much
The other thing that looms at this time of year is the anniversary of my son’s death. I don’t know why it feels so important, with other family members I can barely recall the dates they died. But with my son, it is as if the whole event starts to approach with gathering speed. It matters to me, and not all in a bad way. It just feels so significant to recall the days leading up to when he died. First we have his birthday at the end of August – we recognise that gently amongst family and friends, tracking the passing years. And then, nearly six weeks later - the anniversary of his death.
There is no convenient term for that day – I generally call it his ‘anniversary’ which can be confusing for people who don’t know, but then I don’t usually discuss it with anyone who doesn’t know him or know what that means I guess.
I don’t really know what to do on that day
I usually take the week off work to give myself some space. I sometimes walk on the coast path- about five or six miles is enough for me. Every year, I regret not having organised something more meaningful to do. It’s all a but of a damp squib in many ways. I know there are many bereaved parents who prefer just to allow it to go by unmentioned and unmarked and I do get that but that’s not right for me.
I feel as if it should be momentous – as if the world should stop and recognise what is happening and it’s just a date that looms and passes every year. Perhaps I yearn for a funeral every year. It is hard to describe the wish for the aliveness of love and loss that I remember being with that day. It was terrible and beautiful at the same time.
“This is what I have learned: Within the sorrow, there is grace. When we come close to those things that break us down, we touch those things that also break us open.”
I don’t know how to achieve a taste of that terrible, beautiful experience that I wish for but I want to plan for it. I wish I could say tht I have this taped but I don’t. I am going to think further about this in the coming weeks and maybe do it differently this time.
What do you do on the anniversary day?
I would love to hear from you how you ‘do’ the anniversary day. What helps and supports you? What works against you?