The Date
How to Honor Your Loved One
One of the hardest times during a loss is the years of “dates.” Honoring the memory of a loved one is a personal act or rememberance. These milestones can be marked by celebrations of their unique spirit and the legacy they left behind.
**Excerpt from my book GRACE FOR GRIEF coming out July 7.
The anniversary day of your child’s death —their date—will be difficult. The grief will rise as the day approaches, and it will continue to be one of the most dreaded days every year.
As my first date approached, friends told me to prepare ahead of time by planning an activity that Morgan would have enjoyed. Some suggested I visit the cemetery to spruce up the resting place with flowers or mementos.
I used the time to reflect in the stillness of nature around me.
Every year that has followed, I’ve spent time alone on this difficult day. I give myself time to picture Morgan, imagining her at the age she’d be that day. I ponder…what would she be doing? Would she be married? Would she have her own children?
I grant myself permission and time to cry whenever the mood strikes me. While many people may tell you not to cry, and others will try to avoid tears, I believe they come for a reason. Tears can nourish us as we go through grief. I don’t deny myself the opportunity to cry or even try to hide it.
For me, crying releases the heavy feelings and gripping anxieties that build up within us. Tears free us from continuing tensions.
Equally as hard to face is your loved one’s birthday when they are gone.
Birthdays were celebrated big in the McCarty household. Morgan was born on December 16, which fell too close to all the Christmas events, so each year, we celebrated her birthday in October instead, hosting hayrides and bonfires as an annual tradition.
The first year we lost Morgan, I knew those months were going to be especially painful. Between birthdays and holidays, we were walking through a field of emotional landmines. Still, I didn’t want her birthday to go by without doing something special. So, as difficult as I knew it would be, I invited some of her friends to honor what would have been Morgan’s twenty-first birthday.
Nothing gives me more joy than being around her friends that she loved so much. While it was not easy to celebrate Morgan’s life in those first few months after she died, we did slice a birthday cake and share special memories. One of her friends, Kara, shared, “Morgan would love us all getting together tonight, and especially she would love the chocolate cake,” and everyone agreed.
Now, we celebrate Morgan’s birthday every year. It can be as simple as having her favorite meal or going to one of her favorite restaurants, but we don’t let the occasion go by without special notice.
Recently, I talked with my Grief group about ways we can celebrate the birthdays of our children. Some like to spend the day giving to a cause or a group that was connected to their loved one. Some take food to the local soup kitchen, others volunteer with a grade school class, and others invite friends and family to a special birthday meal. There are so many ways you can honor your loved one, helping transform your pain into a positive action.
One year, I decided I would go to the local bakery and pay for someone’s birthday cake on the day of Morgan’s birth (December 16). The two stipulations were: I was to remain anonymous, and it needed to be a child’s birthday cake. I had written the following note and left it with the cake.
Dear Mom,
Today is my daughter’s 25th birthday and the 4th one in heaven.
In memory of her, I paid for your child’s cake.
Please enjoy and make wonderful memories.
Hug your child tight and cherish your days.
You never know if this will be your last one.
Love,
A grieving Mom
As I was paying for the cake one of the clerks said, “I know you. You are Morgan McCarty’s mother. I went to school with her.”
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A familiar panic began to grow in my stomach, as I realized my identity was blown.
Standing there in my gym clothes, I had nowhere to hide, so I told her, “Yes,” and she said, “Can you show the others her picture?”
As I got out her picture for the others in the store, the floodgates opened. I not only started crying, but sobbing. Soon, I had the entire baking staff crying too. The employees came from behind the counter, and we all hugged and shed tears together. As they passed her picture around, they wanted to know more about her.
Through tears, I explained, “Morgan died from a hit-and-run accident at UT when she was a junior in college. That happened in 2006, and we miss her every day.”
The girl who knew her said, “I was younger than Morgan, but I knew her from school. She was a cheerleader. I remember her smile and how nice she was to me, as a younger student in school.”
I had hoped to go into the bakery, make the donation, and take a quick exit. I certainly didn’t expect to break down in the shop. But that’s how grief works. Triggers can happen when we least expect them. That day, pulling Morgan’s photo from my purse became the trigger.
It was already an emotional day, being her birthday, but it didn’t take much to snowball me into a crying mess.
Sometimes the smallest moment can throw off the normal rhythm of an entire day.
