Still surviving

Well, I survived another year of the most difficult Adelaide anniversaries. It was a cumulatively exhausting week and I’m still recovering. Thank you so much to everyone who reached out over the last week and sent love, strength and condolences. I didn’t respond to many but please know that every single one was read.

Leading up to this hell week I had tried to remain open to any and all emotions: including being ok – and sometimes I was. Except for Monday. Monday was a shit show. Still, I remain in awe how each year these anniversaries hit me differently. The first year my goal was simply to survive them – honestly, that’s still the goal but now I have a bit more bandwidth to try and plan distractions. I mean traditions…

For the second year in a row we visited a sunflower farm on the anniversary of her passing. It’s an hour’s drive away, we walk the fields picking flowers and then have lunch at the food trucks they have set up nearby. It’s nice to be outside and among so many beautiful flowers, aaand with travel time it chews up a solid chunk of the day.

Then, because her birthday landed on a Monday this year, we decided to host her birthday ‘party’ on Sunday. I kept it simple: A couple dozen friends, bagels, fruit, mimosas, a craft for the kids and we released live ladybugs (which I ordered on Amazon proving you can get just about anything on Amazon). Then we went into the city to see Into the Woods which was one of the best performances of a show I have ever seen on Broadway. That said, it had been a long time since I’d listened to the second act and perhaps might have thought twice about choosing that weekend to attend had I remembered how tragic the back half of the show is. Miguel was audibly sobbing and Jackson, who was seated between us, held each of our hands and shifted his head back and forth between our shoulders depending on who he felt needed more comfort in the moment.

By Monday, Adelaide’s actual birthday, I was under the influence of an epic emotional hangover and strategically moved from couch to couch to bed to couch and back to bed. I skirted all responsibilities allowing figurative and literal piles to build up around me. All meals were ordered in, apart from the blue box mac and cheese I made the kids for dinner, before abandoning all dirty pots and dishes to be dealt with later.

From past years I know that these anniversaries suck (duh), but they are also wildly unpredictable. There is no way to know in advance what moments will hit you the hardest. Last year I was a blubbering mess picking Sunflowers and this year, aside from some raging anxiety, on the outside I was relatively stable. Then turned around to get body slammed on her birthday - a day I was able to happily celebrate the year prior.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that even though I’m three years into this grief journey, and have become more adept at navigating the treacherous terrain Adelaide left in the wake of her life, I’m not sure these anniversaries ever stop sucker punching you. It’s hard for me to imagine a time in the future when they are just days that we quietly acknowledge but don’t stop life for. I guess that’s a personal preference though. I don’t want them to ever just be regular days. Who knows how many years I have left on this earth, forever separated from my daughter. I will choose to take two of those 365 days each year to remember her a little more, honor her a little greater, and yes, feel the love, and its twin, grief, a little more passionately. This is a choice, but it is one that I willingly make because on these two days she feels a little closer to me. Like the veil between this world and whatever comes next is thinner. I remember more clearly the details of our life together and the physical aspects that a photograph can never convey.

So, yeah, am I significantly better at balancing my grief with regular life? Sure am. Do these days and their following hangovers still pack a punch. Sure do. That is a balance I can live with, and even appreciate, for now. Maybe someday that changes. I mean, I never could have imagined carrying my grief as adeptly as I do now three years ago.

Consider this an honest and raw check-in for where I’m at. I’m ok until I’m not but I now know that the ok will be back and eventually some happiness as well. For anyone also grieving, please don’t compare your journey to mine, or think you should be grieving differently than you are. Each of our journeys is unique. I share mine so you know that you are not alone. An acknowledgment that this is hard as fuck. That there are choices we can make and unpredictability comes with each. But somehow, we continue to survive.