The One About the First Anniversary: Today Is One Year Since He Died

So, this morning I woke up to the sound of my phone notifying me of a text message. I’ve never, ever, slept with my phone until Shane died. (He died one year ago today.)

It’s crazy how fast this past year has gone, yet so slowly.

I glanced at the phone. It was his best friend. He sent me a photo of them laughing on the golf course in Jamaica on our last Friend’s Trip there in 2020. The photo was taken three months after he was diagnosed and seven months before he died from cancer. Right after we came home from that trip the world changed; the pandemic closed everything down just a month later.

So anyhow, attached to the photo was a simple message: “Definitely missing Shane and thinking about your family today.”

What a wonderful way to wake up on this day. No time to think about anything else. Just a shot of positive as I rubbed the sleep from my eyes.

Every fifteen minutes for the next hour and a half the texts started coming in. The usual suspects of course. There are always those people you can count on to support you. My two crafting buddies, my kids, my neighbor, my mom.

Everyone knew I wasn’t doing much today except for having a day of reflection. I made a cup of coffee in one of Shane’s “dad” mugs and sat outside on the patio. The weather was cool for the first time in months so I grabbed a chunky sweater and put his slippers on my feet on my way out of the door.

A year later and his shoes are all where he left them, a pair by each door.

It was kind of early so the sun was still low in the sky. It was a clear morning; the sunshine was beautiful and intense. Some of the neighborhood deer came to say hello so I gave them some crisp, Red Delicious, apples.

Then I took a bunch of clippings from flowers in the memorial garden and from the butterfly bushes that Shane loved. I bundled them into small bunches, tied them with twine, and hung them upside down inside a closet to dry. The entire room is filled with an amazing aroma now. It kind of smells like cotton candy.

I made a second cuppa. I began to think of things I am grateful for. I just sat there talking to myself and saying out loud all the things I am thankful for. When you start thinking of how you are blessed, it really makes you feel better. And the list kept going and going! I just went on for about fifteen minutes. Honestly, I was pretty impressed at how long my list was.

Several people reached out on social media. That’s always nice. I love that when I reach out, people reach back. Sharing stories, or thoughts, or just a few hearts. Those little things really DO mean something.

One lady that I have been online friends with for a decade now, thought the fact that I am now a Death Doula was pretty interesting. She said she played music for people on their deathbeds. I’ve heard her play the cello on her CD Cellobies and it’s so soothing. She said maybe she would make a CD for death doulas. How fantastic is that?

Knowing I wanted to be alone today, a friend stopped by yesterday and brought me dinner for tonight. I, pretty much, was able to spend the entire day in reflection. Enveloped in still, quiet moments today has been very cathartic.

Everyone handles days like this differently. We need to do whatever feels right for us individually. All of my children took the day off from work. Two are out of state and to celebrate their father they had a movie marathon where they watched only twenty minutes of each movie—not starting at the beginning, but picking a random place to watch. That is how Shane watched movies. He would flip through the channels and watch 20 minutes—usually the middle or the end—and if it was interesting it went on the list of things to watch.

A friend of my other daughter sent her a “dad joke” every day for the past week. Seeing the corny jokes was absolutely a smile maker and a very fun, and unique, way to honor someone who had a great sense of humor.

I can only speak for myself, but today I wanted to remember. I wanted to be able to laugh over funny memories from over the last 32 years as well as to be able to think about the last days in home hospice. Despite the merciless toll cancer took upon his body, he remained his beautiful self up until the end.

The kids and I remained right there with him. We all camped out around the hospital bed in the living room. The room was lit only by candles throughout the night and into the morning. His favorite tunes played softly in the background. He took his last breath steeped in love and compassion.

Those Images in my mind are very difficult and graphic, but they are images I never want to forget. They are a part of me; silently forming my tomorrow. Slowly teaching me about life, love, and loss.

Grief has many phases and many faces. Please be gentle to those grieving a loss (including yourself.) Allow space. Everyone does it differently. Some need privacy; some need company. Some want to reminisce and some don’t. There is no timetable on how long the grieving process should last. There is no end to grief. It may lessen over time, but it never goes away. Our grief is integrated into our life. Sometimes it drifts into the background and sometimes we are overwhelmed with emotion.

Never put pressure on yourself or others to move forward.

I would love to hear how you spend anniversaries of loss. Do you do certain rituals? Is it solemn or light-hearted? Do you have traditions?