Two Parents

How do two parents (or a sister, brother, friend, aunt, uncle, grandparent, for that matter) choose to spend the "anniversary date" of the passing of their child?! There is no plan, no script, no outline, no way that we are prepared for such a thing, such an event, and we know not what to do. We have had only two experiences, so on this third year, there still is no design or way to get through it, we just do. We follow the spirit that has led us since that morning, just three years ago, and we honor, remember, and celebrate in some fashion. We both know it is not unlike any other day, but somehow the chamber of our soul lets us know that there IS something different. There are beautiful moments and there are painful moments that only the two of us can know. Others have their own loss and remembrances. Their pain is not ours. And even as together as we are, we both recognize, honor, and respect that we still have to cope with our individual loss. So we find our way, we cling to one another, we embrace and almost collapse in one another's arms. Our individual tears meld and entwine as they run down our cheeks until you could never tell whose is whose...but we smile, too, and we acknowledge where we are. We find strength. We recoil. One of us lies down under a blanket, in fetal position, praying to drift off to sleep for a bit.One of us tries to read but the words are blurred and nothing makes sense. One of us runs and runs until the fatigue takes over and rest can come. One of us tries to move through as if it is a "normal" Saturday, doing chores, trying to be productive, but knowing she is moving in circles. We both know this was not a Saturday, but a Tuesday morning, the 9th of January, at 7:00 a.m. when she took her last breath, when we had not even comprehended a cancer diagnosis, let alone that it would take her from us in this form. It's the year 2007 again, when the cold of winter was prevalent, and unknown to us, about to get colder and icier and the dead of winter would prevail. But that all had purpose under heaven, now we know. Now we know so much. Our innocence has been shredded, ripped, and lost, and we now know.

How do two parents move through such a day? Just like we do every other day. We do what must be done. We attend events and ceremonies as we can, and we broaden our horizons. We follow some routines. But we allow the moments that do come, and we honor them, too. We are here for our daughter, recognizing that she is building a life that involves her own way of moving through and honoring her sister. We may sit in silence. We may make a meal of comfort. We remember. We smile. We cry. We live. We travel, literally and figuratively. We look in one another's eyes and we see so much more than before, we attempt to speak, but no words can come. Then when we do, the words don't stop. We have faced journeys without even packing a suitcase or boarding a plane. We have known darkness that reaches to the core of our beings, but we have seen light that seeps in and takes it all aways. We settle in and watch a movie, or we play with Rex, for he knows not what has gone before him, here in the confines of our family unit. He needs his routine, his play time, his food and his walks! So, come rain or shine, we move on, and through, and we find our way.

We can say these sorts of days are just like any other,and in many senses, they are. The "triggers" never leave, we just learn a new way of life, with them as our constant companion. Yet, the day itself does bring about other emotions that sometimes seem to lie dormant, only to rise up and surge through our souls, needing to be dealt with and coped with...and we do, and we will. Sometimes we don't know how, and often we wish it weren't so that this is our plight. But it is. And we will live to honor a life that was once so brilliant and vibrant. She still is, now, we find, in different form.

So, how do we do this? Through love for her, for her sister, for each other and ourselves, to pay tribute to a loving God who has brought us this far, and who will not forsake us. And we are thankful for the day to do it, with each other. Life could hand us a different set of circumstances at any moment, so we are thankful, everyday that we are two parents who get to do this together. It doesn't take away any of the loss, the grief, the complete and utter despair, but for this day, we have each other, and we are grateful.