Sometimes, the loneliness won't leave me alone

Yesterday was the anniversary of my mother-in-law's birth. It is the first time I have experienced her birthday without Cecil. From the time Cecil retired in 2005, and quite a few years before that, we spent Mom's birthday with her in West Virginia. I knew yesterday would be hard. I didn't know how hard it would be, and I know it is just a foreshadowing of the weeks to come.

Everyone warns you about anniversaries when you are navigating grief. I have been preparing myself for how hard Thanksgiving, and Christmas, and Cecil's birthday are going to be. What I forgot to prepare for are all the other anniversaries.

It is not that the sadness is greater. For me, it is the intense loneliness. A loneliness for Cecil. For our traditions. For our habits. For our normal.

Mom died in 2016, so Cecil and I experienced seven of Mom's birthdays without her. But we had each other to remember with and to reminisce with. I realize now that when the anniversaries of my mother and father's death arrive in December and January those days will hit me hard too.

I don't know if it comes through in these posts, but I am trying so hard to persevere. Trying to put one foot in front of the other and be productive. Trying to not fall into depression. Trying to not be a burden on my family and friends.

But despite all the trying, days like yesterday slay me. I'm trying to execute my plan for today. I have an eight mile walk to do, a dog to bathe, laundry to do, grocery shopping to complete. I'm going to do my best to get through the list.

I have a beautiful tomorrow planned, as I am going to a play with a dear friend. And on Sunday, Melanie and Sid are coming over to watch the Saints game and have dinner. I am holding on to those things to get through today.

And this will be life for the foreseeable future. Trying as hard as I can to not drown in the grief, and being surprised when a wave of grief bowls me over and I get caught in the undertow. But I'll keep swimming. Knowing that the love of family and friends will buoy me up when I need it.