This writing first appeared in a column I wrote for a website. Since the website no longer exists, I am free to publish it again here on my personal blog. This was written June, 2009:
On a recent morning, I received a message from my friend, Tanya, reminding me that exactly one month had passed since the death of her son, who died in a car accident.
“I’m having a very hard time facing this milestone,” she wrote. As I read her message, the words weighed heavily on me, because I knew how she felt. The calendar became an unexpected trigger point of pain in her new life.
As a young girl, I got very excited when the calendar finally flipped to September, my birthday month. The act of crossing off days until the end of the school year or the beginning of a family vacation gave me tremendous satisfaction. Planning my wedding and anticipating the births of my children turned calendar-watching into a near obsession.
Since my son’s death, however, the calendar has a different effect on me; it occasionally sends me into an emotional tailspin. It serves to remind me of traumatic events from my past or joyful occasions that will never be fully celebrated again.
Now, every September—the month my son died—the emotional tremors, normally hidden under the surface, turn into a full-blown quake. April, always one of my favorite months, is the month my son, Jacob, was born. Now sadness accompanies it every year.
During the first several months after Jacob died, a pall came over me every Sunday night because his accident took place on a Sunday evening. A Sunday that falls on the 24th of the month is especially difficult, even now, because I find myself replaying the events of THAT Sunday night.
The clock can influence my emotions as well. Every year on their birthdays, I would regale my kids with the events that took place before, during and after their births.
Jacob’s story began at 7 p.m. on April 20. After Jacob’s death, I faced that day and hour for the first time while riding in a car with my husband. We were on our way home from a University of Georgia memorial service recognizing students and faculty members who died the previous year. As 7 p.m. approached, I felt like I was losing my mind; my chest felt like it was going to explode from the pain in my heart.
My husband, knowing the agony I was experiencing, exited the interstate and pulled into an empty parking lot. He gently told me to get out and walk with him. He handed me his cell phone with Jacob’s number already dialed and said, “Tell him the story of his birth, Sandy.”
So I did.
On significant dates, dwelling on my loss is not always helpful, so I schedule activities such as yard work or outings with my husband and friends to keep my mind occupied for much of the day. However, I’m also very intentional to carve out time to pray, look at pictures of our family and focus on Jacob.
Allowing myself to recognize special days on the calendar helps me process my grief and conduct a quick emotional check-up: Am I feeling stronger this time around? Am I withdrawing? Am I using my emotional energy in positive ways such as working on Jacob’s memorial website or journaling? Am I drawing nearer to God in my spiritual journey through prayer and reading Scripture or am I turning from Him out of bitterness or resentment?
Being able to identify real progress in my emotional healing by checking it against the calendar is encouraging and helpful. When I find that I have experienced some emotional backsliding since the last check on the calendar, I make a conscious decision to turn the tide back toward healing.
I like knowing I’m not simply treading water and surviving, but moving forward and, dare I say, thriving.
Journey Of Grief ~ Journey Of Grace 