And suddenly, they are not just random dates on the calendar

Here goes another post on grief.

There are many times I have written about my experience with grief, but most of those posts haven’t seen the light of day. Sometimes it was because writing them felt like enough release, other times it felt like being that raw and honest would be too traumatising for people to read.

Today, it feels like this is okay. It makes sense. It’s not too deep. People will get it.

Each year, depending on how much importance you place, there are some days that you always look forward to. Your birthday, for example, your wedding anniversary, the day you graduated, whatever it is. Such days often come with excitement, probably celebrations planned ahead of time. I have such days too. My birthday is the one I probably look forward to the most, but there are also two days in a year that I dread. Days when it feels like I am reliving the loss of my parents. I never know how I will react. Will I feel numb? Will I be a wreck? Will I be working that day? Is it going to fall on a weekend? Is it even possible to prepare for such days? How would that look like? What does that even mean?

It could fall on the weekend when my friend is getting married, and I will have to show up for it and be happy for them while I am actually dying inside. It could fall on a day where there is a tight deadline at work, and I have to lock in or crash out. Imagine the day finds me depressed, so now I actually spiral. As I write this, the two dates have already passed. I definitely felt some things. I went down memory lane, cried here and there. Wrestled with God a bit, and I just had to forge on.

I will never get over the fact that suddenly they are not just random dates on the calendar; they are the dates when I feel like I carry the weight of the world. Dates I experienced the most heartbreaking heartbreaks, and I will continue reliving them until my own date comes around.