Death and Anniversaries

Emily (Image by Amy Daniels)

I’m approaching that time of year: the one-year anniversary of my daughter’s death. What a strange way to refer to the date that my daughter stopped taking breaths here on Earth. Anniversary. Doesn’t that connotate a happy day to which you should celebrate? It doesn’t seem right to refer to the day, one year ago, that my daughter physically left us, as an anniversary.

We need to do better to discuss dying and the effect on those left still breathing. I don’t even have a term that describes me — a mother whose child has died. This is a significant fact about me and yet there’s no label for someone in my situation. I’m not an orphan, that’s someone who has lost a parent. I’m not a widow or widower, that’s someone who has lost their spouse. Once we come up with a name for someone like me, we should work on creating a better term to mark that day — that day I became a [insert new term for me here] on the calendar.

I don’t want to celebrate that day. I don’t even want to remember that day, but that seems wrong.

My brother called me. He said, “I know this is a hard week. I don’t know what to do or say.”

“I don’t know either” was my honest response.

I just don’t know how to sort out my emotions. And, worse, there’s no manual for me to consult to tell me the appropriate thing to feel, do, or say.