Some of you know that I lost my father when I was a little girl. Yes, that was a looooong time ago. June 23rd was the anniversary of his death and I just experienced what the Mayo Clinic calls an “anniversary reaction”. It’s a terribly clinical name for normal grief feelings around grief anniversaries and special days. And I underscore the word, “normal”, mostly as a reminder for myself.
A few weeks ago, I attended the National Alliance for Grieving Children’s Symposium on Childhood Grief; three intense days of back to back sessions and plenaries on some of the most difficult topics in the field of childhood grief and mourning. Coincidentally, June 23rd was smack dab in the middle of the symposium. Anticipating this, I thought there was something beautiful and poetic about the timing of the symposium as I reflected on how I would be better able to serve bereaved kids.
On the morning of the anniversary, I was fine, which I expected to be. After all, it was years ago that my dad died. I sat through all of the sessions that morning excited about the ideas I’d be bringing home. Then came the afternoon sessions. I walked into the next meeting and listened to the speaker talk about how difficult it had been for a little boy in her program who had lost his dad.
Then, it hit me. Hard.
I began remembering in vivid detail what those first years were like for me, my brother, and my mum. I took a deep breath and tried to focus on the speaker and on my notes. I’m generally good at putting my emotions on a shelf temporarily so I can deal with practical matters at hand. But this time, I couldn’t. Flooded with emotion, I excused myself.
As tears poured down my face, I sought the privacy of my hotel room. There, the intensity of the feelings both surprised and overwhelmed me. There were waves of sadness and tears and I began to cry as if it were yesterday. I spent the following three days doing everything that I would gently and lovingly recommend another in the midst of grief not do. First, I began by “should”ing all over myself: “I shouldn’t feel this way. It has been years.” “I’m stronger than this.” “I’m fine.” I then proceeded to talk to…… no one about my feelings because… well… see previous sentences. I felt embarrassed. So I tried to put them in a box. Remember, I was in the midst of several days talking about normal responses to grief and how to support that. The conference even started with a session on self-care.
It took me a few days to realize why I was in such a funk and what I was doing. Or rather what I was not doing. So, on the way home from the conference, I took a deep breath and extended to myself the same gentleness and kindness that I would extend to anyone else in my shoes. I gave myself permission to feel sad, to cry, and to feel whatever it was that I was going to feel. Because grief doesn’t always look like grief. Sometimes it looks like sadness, but it also comes in anger, sensitivity, numbness, withdrawal, and a host of other feelings and reactions that don’t always make sense to ourselves or to those around us. Then, I called my mum, and had a long talk with her because, yes, she’s my trusted, empathetic person that I go to when I need to talk.
Upon returning home, I cuddled with my dogs, wrote about my feelings, contemplated what I needed in the coming days, and reviewed my notes from the opening plenary on self-care. And I reminded myself of:
What to expect on grief anniversaries and other memorable days
- Waves of emotions that will come and go before, on, and after the anniversary or day
- Sensitivity and emotional responses to unrelated situations
- The desire to withdraw
- The desire to put feelings in a box or to not feel
- Anger
- Anxiety
- Depression
- Loneliness
- Sadness
- Trouble sleeping
- Fatigue and lack of energy
How to take care of yourself
- Talk with a safe, trusted, empathetic person who is able to walk with you through your feelings.
- Tell those close to you what is going on so they understand what may be different behavior and can support you
- Offer yourself the same gentleness, kindness, and patience that you would offer a child in the midst of grief
- Understand that grief is unpredictable. Some anniversaries and important days will be harder than others.
- Allow yourself to feel whatever you feel
- Journal
- Engage in personal spiritual practices (e.g. prayer, meditation, nature walks)
- Be prepared
- Start a new tradition
- Connect with others
And finally, banish the word, “should” from your vocabulary.