Week of February 5, 2017 – Another Anniversary

By Joan Whetzel

 

This past week 2 anniversaries passed for me and my family – my father’s birthday on Feb. 2 and the 3^rd anniversary of his passing the next day. Normally, I feel a bit anxious this time of year since his passing. But this year, it really got to me.

You see, last Friday, a co-worker’s husband died in a horrible car accident. While I understand some of the widow part of what she’s going through, she’s also got a young son (9 years) and a step-son (17 years) that she and her husband were raising. I can’t imagine that part of what she’s going through.

So, while last week stirred up some of the feelings I had on my own widow’s journey, it also stirred up the loss of my father. The fact that her husband’s funeral fell on my dad’s birthday – and a day before the anniversary of his passing – is purely coincidental, I know. But it still had me off kilter last week.

Dealing with such anniversaries, up until now, involved “doing normal” – which means cleaning, grocery shopping, doing yardwork, and going to work. That last one – going to work – is what’s had me in a pickle. I go into work, expecting to see her there, and not knowing what to say to her. (Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know she’s not really going to be there, she’s got too much on her plate right now.) But then there’s also the prospect of hearing all of my co-workers talking about her and her loss. Part of me wants to join in the conversations. The other part of me doesn’t want to listen to the discussions. This anniversary made it all just a little too close for comfort. The usual “doing normal” didn’t seem to be helping.

The funeral did help a bit. There were the usual stories and laughs. (A reminder it’s okay to laugh at some of the memories.) And everyone in the auditorium shed a few tears, which gave me permission to shed a few tears of my own. Yeah, it felt selfish. After all this was for her and her family. But, still, the funeral gave me an excuse to cry a little without having to explain myself.

I think the best part of the funeral came toward the end. He was a firefighter, which – besides the huge crowd at the church (1,000+) – meant a full fire and police escort from the church to the graveside service (for family only) and there were bagpipes outside the church and at the gravesite. They also placed his coffin atop one of the engines and allowed his sons to ride with him to the cemetery.

While the funeral again gave me a bit of closure, I’ve found I needed to allow myself the opportunity to spend the weekend at home, just taking care of myself. Yes, I’m giving myself permission to be selfish.