We have what I call birthday season at our house. It starts in early November, when two of us have birthdays one day after the other, and continues through early January, when we celebrate the fourth and final birth date.
Add in Thanksgiving and Christmas, and it’s roughly two months of cake, presents, special meals and the making of warm memories. With the house decorated and holiday music playing continually, it’s my favorite time of the year, hands down.
Since my parents passed away in 2019, I’ve discovered a second—though much less festive—season on my life calendar. I haven’t figured out when to call it yet—death anniversary season sounds crass; parental remembrance season seems too formal.
Whatever title I give it, it starts on Good Friday, which was observed the day my mom died and will forever be connected in my mind with the actual date of her death, and continues through June 14—my parents’ wedding anniversary and the day we buried my dad. This stretch of time—also roughly two months—includes Mother’s Day, both parents’ birthdays and the date my dad died (one day after his birthday).
As I was trudging my way through these weeks for the first time last year, my gratefulness that God called my parents home before the Covid-19 pandemic somehow muffled the intensity of the experience. I wasn’t denying or stuffing my grief; it was more of a quiet realization that God’s timing for our family—as hard as it was to accept at times—really had worked out for their good.
This year, though, the sadness was more acute and my tears were much closer to the surface. On my mom’s birthday, after crying for the second time in one day, I told Randy I didn’t know where all this emotion was coming from.
“You’ve cried about 1 percent of the tears I expected you to cry since your parents died,” he said as he hugged me in the backyard.
Grief is communal in some ways, but also so very individual. Ask any of my six siblings about the way they’ve processed my parents’ deaths and I’m guessing you’d get six different answers.
I’m not a big crier; I never have been. But I am a processor—through thinking, talking, writing, even listening to music. The important thing—for me and probably for you too, when you experience a deep loss—is to keep processing, whatever that looks like for you.
For me, it includes making relevant references to my parents in conversation with friends and family members who knew them. Thinking and writing about their lives in relation to my own. And yes—especially these last few months—letting the tears flow when they will.
There’s a starting point to grief, but I’m learning there may not be an endpoint—not this side of heaven anyway. It won’t always be as heavy or as sad, but in some ways, it will always be there, especially if the person who is no longer here was near and dear to our hearts.
According to author Ronne Rock, who lost her own mom 21 years ago, that’s not a bad thing, either.
“I’ve come to be okay with the unlikely friendship of grief,” she writes in an article for The Redbud Writers Guild. “The wash of it over a tender moment is the reminder that we are made for more than the dirt under our feet. The sound of it in a bird’s song is the reminder that our stories are still being written even as the ink on the page blurs from the tears. The presence of it in dog-eared picture books or fading photos is the reminder that death is the very thing that God uses to plant his new seeds of life in us, the way the soil in the field hides the seeds of hope—hope waiting to be baptized.”
I don’t know what that’s all going to look like in my own life, or yours either. But as we learn to trust the Author of our faith with the details of our stories, I have a feeling the flame of eternity will only grow brighter and brighter in our hearts.
And that can only mean good things for the remainder of our days here on earth.
♥ Lois
There’s a starting point to grief, but I’m learning there may not be an endpoint—not this side of heaven anyway. Share on X Grief won’t always be as heavy or as sad, but in some ways, it will always be there, especially if the person who is no longer here was near and dear to our hearts. Share on XP.S. I’m linking up this week with #tellhisstory, InstaEncouragements, Recharge Wednesday, Let’s Have Coffee, Inspire Me Monday, #HeartEncouragement and Grace & Truth.
24 comments
Lois,
I too have seasons of sadness. Holidays and festive occasions can be bittersweet because they are mixed with joy and sorrow. The gut pain of my dad’s passing has gone, but I find I miss him more as the years go by. So many times I’ve wished I could ask him his thoughts on something. God gave us emotions and tears for a reason — to be used. Sometimes tears are the cathartic cleanse our heart needs. ((HUGS))
Blessings,
Bev xx
Oh Bev … I know what you mean about wishing you could get your dad’s thoughts about something. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve thought that same thing, especially since the pandemic started and through all the other events of last year and this year. I love how you put it … that “God gave us emotions and tears for a reason—to be used.” So true. Hugs, friend.
Lois, I’m saving this quote: “ There’s a starting point to grief, but I’m learning there may not be an endpoint—not this side of heaven anyway.” So helpful. I’m sorry for a season of tears, but so grateful for your graciousness in grief and how you share about continuing to process faithfully!
Aw, thank you, Bethany. I know everyone is different, but I can’t imagine going through something like this and not writing about it. Putting thoughts into words, even those I have yet to share, has been so healing! Hugs, friend.
This is a beautiful post, Lois. I agree, grief affects us all in different ways and we need to find the right way to process and to remember that works for us. Sending hugs!
Thanks so much, Lesley! Hugs back!
I so miss the thread of loved ones in my story – my grandmother and grandfather, my aunt. I miss their role in my story – and what they would have to say to my children. I remember after my grandmother died, talking to my aunt and just bursting into tears. I’m not a big crier, either – and sometimes it just comes upon me and I find myself homesick. I handle it by telling their stories. Their birthdays are near all our May-June birthdays – and so I celebrate their stories. You are so right about how people handle grief differently. I’ve seen it with my own kiddos over a beloved pet. One sobbed to the roof tops. One wanted to talk about it – but he didn’t need to talk about it to the one sobbing.
Yep, I hear you, Maryleigh. Sometimes I feel like a counseling degree would be helpful as I try to guide my children through these things, but then I think the best thing I can do is just keep it as real as I can and let them see that it’s OK to cry or tell stories or whatever seems to help based on our personalities. I love how you put it … that you “miss the thread of loved ones” in your story. That is exactly how I feel!
Thank you for sharing so vulnerably. I know this will help others in a similar season.
Thanks for the encouragement, Lauren. ❤️
I lost my Mom and Dad within 7 months of each other and a dear uncle 4 months later – between 2017 and 2018 and when I think I’m over it, the grief bubbles over. In January this year, we lost our sweetest 12 year old dog and I never expected to grieve as much as I am doing. I still talk to all of them in my head!
Aw, Corinne, I’m so sorry for the loss of your parents and uncle in such rapid succession. It’s hard, isn’t it? And then to lose your sweet dog this year after all that 2020 brought … I suppose the one thing we can expect about grief is that it can just be so unpredictable! Hugs, friend.
This was so heart touching and relevant to me. I’m nearing a set of those months as we near September and will walk through yet another season without our first born son. We will begin year four without him. It never becomes easy, but God has wrapped us up and helped us move toward Him more each day. Grief is here to stay, but God is just as faithful as ever. Prayers for you as you continue this journey! Life and the Word of God take on such more meaning after loss. God bless and keep you always.
Oh, Steffanie … I’m so sorry for the loss of your son and the seasons that make that loss even more acute than it already is. What a blessing to hear of God’s tender love and faithfulness to you in the last several years … He truly is “close to the broken-hearted,” isn’t He? Thank you for stopping by and sharing your kind words, my friend.
Exactly, Lois! There is no ending point to grief. I’m a processor too, and I’m still processing my own parents’ deaths from 2010. They pop up in my dreams now more than ever. We, too, have said multiple times that we’re so thankful they didn’t have to cope through the pandemic; it would have been so difficult on them. Praying for you during this difficult season, friend.
Aw, Lisa … thank you. I don’t dream about my parents very often … I wonder if that will change over the years for me as it has for you. I guess we’ll see, huh? 🙂
Lois,
I have the season of ‘Sweet Memories’ it starts in February & goes through to August.
The memories are of my daughter Candy, my son Benjamin & my late husband Ed. All passed away during those months in different years.
The sting of death has gone now replaced by the sweetest of memories. And yes, a few tears still flow at times. Often when I least expect them but that’s okay… it’s been a long & ardous journey through the valley of the shadow of death with my Lord & Saviour.
Bless you, 🌹
Jennifer
Oh Jennifer … thank you for sharing about your season of “Sweet Memories” and how it came to be. I’m sorry for your losses but am encouraged by your journey of healing and the place where you find yourself now. Hugs, friend.
We have a birthday season, too, from mid-July to mid-September–four of our family of five have birthdays then. And I never thought about giving it a name, but we have a season of grieving as well: my mom, dad, grandmother, college friend, and our only family pet all died in December, though in different years. It is interesting how each of my siblings processes differently. One sister had my parents’ death dates tattooed on her wrists. To me, that would be morbid–I’m not into tattoos, but if I were I’d choose a something different than their death dates. But I can’t say she shouldn’t if that’s what she wants to do.
I think it’s true that grieving doesn’t necessarily have an end date. It changes through the years. But even now, 15 years after my mom’s passing, I still have intense moments of aching for her, wishing she could know my kids as adults and know my d-i-l and grandson.
I think it’s also true that deaths of our loved ones have a way of turning our hearts toward heaven and reminding us this life is not all there is.
Oh my, Barbara … December would be a tough month for all those losses. Thank you for sharing your experience with missing your mom … it’s good to know that these feelings last many years and that different seasons (such as grand parenting, for example) may cause the ache to be even greater. I’m with you about the tattoos, but you’re right … to each his or her own! 🙂
Lois, I cannot even express how grateful I am that you are sharing your experience so vulnerability. The tears roll often as I read your words. Yes, I cry easily but there is much more behind my tears. Perhaps one day, I’ll even explain them. For now, may we grow to trust Him more and more as He truly does grow the flame of eternity more brightly with the passing of each day. {hug}
Aw, Joanne … sending you long-distance hugs this afternoon, my friend. Your words are a blessing to me—the ones you’ve shared so far (here and on your blog) and those you may share in the future. ❤️
Oh my friend. You’ve penned it well. And yes, we weep even as we process grief in a myriad of ways all while living life with purpose and joy and hope.
It doesn’t make sense. But that is our reality, isn’t it …
All will be well.
xo
It is and it will, Linda. Such a comfort to be on this journey with you, my friend.