Anniversaries, as you know, have a way of being remembered in the body way before they get consciously registered in the mind. It is as if our body remembers first.
And, most important of all, EVERY BODY remembers differently because every body IS different.
Is there a purpose in grieving 10 years later?
… I asked myself. I like to think there is. I don’t know what the purpose might be but I do trust the body is doing its best to integrate loss into life.
What are your thoughts? Why do you think we grieve, why grieving might be necessary?
Grief 10 years later
You might have read in my last newsletter, you will have read that last week was my twin daughter’s birthday and also my younger daughter’s 10th death anniversary.
The following is what I wrote this year on the anniversary:
It’s been 10 years and it still hurts. Most of the time, I’m not actively grieving. But then there are times when it overcomes me. This was today, the 10th anniversary of A’Mya’s death.
This week where birthday and death anniversary collide is usually the most intense in the whole year.
So, what happens after death, after grief no longer runs your life on a daily or regular basis?
Grief triggers will bring up memories
The following I wrote yesterday:
Today, as I watched the Grey’s Anatomy series, the tiny premmie in the NICU died. I watched the mother in the scene hold her baby for the first, last, and only time… “I’m not ready yet”, the uttered through tears streaming down her face, as he stopped breathing. That was me, 10 years ago.
And I remember with every fiber of my being the gut-wrenching pain as well as the honor to hold her as she drew her last breath.
Triggers will come up, no matter the time that has passed since the death. For me, it isn’t about avoiding triggers. It is about riding the waves and letting them wash up the shore until the sea has calmed down again.
And then there is life, continuing
The week of birth and death anniversaries has come to an end… and life goes on… and continues… turning and turning like the big Ferris wheel 🎡 currently in our village.
The hardest part of grief is learning to go on living without them.