I’ve talked before about grief seasons. Many bereaved parents have a certain period each year that their grief is more prominent. This seasonal grieving usually settles in two or three years after the death of their child. The first few years are so hard. Grief triggers are everywhere, and emotions are raw. But even eight years after my daughter’s homegoing I still have seasonal grief.
It’s different for every parent. For me, my grief season starts with my daughter’s birthday which happens to be on Halloween, followed quickly by my own birthday on November 5th.
You might wonder why my birthday is a trigger for missing my daughter. Just the proximity of our birthdays is part of it. But every year that I get older is one more year since I saw her. Spoke to her. Hugged her. I see my own reflection in the mirror and wonder how she would look. She would be 38 now. Most likely she would look a lot like I did, and my mother did at that age. Rachel resembled us both, although she was taller, and her hair was darker. I wonder if she would be surprised at changes in my appearance.
The holidays come fast and furious on the heels of my birthday. Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Years all hold sadness and nostalgia without Rachel celebrating with us. And yes, I know she is celebrating in Heaven. I would never want to deny her the glory she is experiencing now. Yet, my heart still hurts.
Like my birthday, the calendar turning to a new year is a reminder of the ever-growing gap of her being here.
Then what should be her wedding anniversary comes up on February 10th. Although she and her husband never got to celebrate an anniversary because she left this world two short months after their marriage. You would think that her homegoing date, April 11th, would be the culmination of my grief season. But there’s one more hard date to get through. Mother’s Day.
Half of the two people who made me a mother are gone from this world.
I am undoubtedly blessed. I know that. My older daughter makes my heart sing. She and her husband have given us four perfect grandchildren. (Yes, they really are.) And I don’t want to put her sister on a pedestal. I don’t want Rachel’s absence to be the centerpiece of the day. In fact, I’ve gotten pretty good at crying in the shower in the morning and on the porch swing later in the day. And, in between, when my older daughter and I are celebrating being mothers I can usually hold in the tears.
But honestly, I’m glad when Mother’s Day is over. That’s when my grief season wanes. I’ve got almost six months of mostly trigger-free days. Expected ones, anyway. I know that for the rest of my life I will have unexpected blue days. And that’s okay. I love and miss my daughter always. I’ll handle the random heartstring pull.
Right now, I’m just looking forward to a new season.
Laura
A Light for My Path 
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