Today is a day that one person in our grief group calls your child's "death day" - what a terrible concept.
I recall sitting in grief group a few months ago, while a mother described what she did on the first anniversary of her daughter's death. How she gathered at the grave site with a few friends of her daughter's, and placed a new wreath. The story included her picking it up at the floral department of the grocery store, and in the bakery department a cheery woman greeting her with, "Isn't it a great day?". The woman was persistent, insisting it was a glorious day and all should be happy, until the mother felt compelled to tell her what she had just picked up from the florist, and that in fact it was not a glorious day. I remember listening to her, thinking how awful to have an anniversary of your child's death, and then realizing that I too would have one. I remember a thought I had within weeks of Lev's death - I'm going to be that person, that mother whose teenager died, that tainted sad soul who never really recovers but becomes a new person, marred with a deep, never ending grief below all else that might occur in ones lifetime. I saw my future, my present, and my past - a moment of clarity that I revisit sometimes but have not fully come to terms with yet.
After listening to the other grieving mother, I realized we should plan something for Lev's death day, a day to share our grief with others, giving time and space to just focus on Lev, reflect on his life. So, we have some people coming over this afternoon, and people have been sending written memories for the life-with-lev blog. I really value the letters; it reminds me of events I may have forgotten, or teaches me about another bit of Lev.
How can someone you love so much just be gone so prematurely?
How does one just go on?
Rebecca
