There's something unique about losing a child, concerning special occasions, that differentiates it from other deaths. These include the anniversary of their death and their birthday. This is compounded when milestone ages come around – 18th, 21st, etc. Following this, there are other special occasions a family celebrates together, such as Christmas, weddings, and graduations. The hole a young person leaves is much larger than a beloved elderly relative who has passed on.
Birthdays
For most of us, the birth of a child is a day for celebration and a clear moment when our lives take on greater significance. Suddenly, you have skin in the game and another person to consider beyond you and your needs. Most parents will never regret having a child and will see it as their greatest achievement when they reflect on their lives. I know many people whose marriages have ended in acrimony but who still see their children as separate from the failed relationship. Children transcend all the bitterness and regret.
Birthdays for children, no matter their age, are something to be remembered and celebrated. It's as much for the child as for the whole family wishing to celebrate together. After losing a child, birthdays can become very sad days of remembrance or, at the very least, a day devoid of the joy it once held.
Anniversary of a Death
The actual anniversary of their death is surreal; I don't think it can ever be accepted. Every year, it must be chipped away at as you try to make sense of it. That you've outlived your child. You may be forced to reflect on what could have been and resent a world in which they don't exist. This day weighs heavily on the soul. There's no real way to avoid it as you must face the reality of their loss. It does get easier over time, or, more accurately, it becomes more bearable.
Christmas and Other Significant Events
Christmas Day for everyone in childhood was an exciting time of the year. Particularly in the Northern Hemisphere, it was a respite from the cold, humdrum routine of winter months. You were off school, and then you got presents from everyone.
As a young adult, there's a party atmosphere that can be indulged. Even the workplace can pick up as people take time off and relax a bit. The real fun starts when you have your own children and they're aware of the day. Watching them react to Christmas and all that surrounds it is genuinely life-affirming.
If your child is removed from this scenario, then it takes on a whole new meaning. It will never be the same; trying to find similar levels of joy and carefree abandonment is very difficult and, I would argue, almost futile. Perhaps the only antidote to this is grandchildren or at least spending time with family and friends’ children when you can cope with it. In time, you can respond to their infectious joy.
Harsh Contrasts
The uniqueness comes from how it contrasts your life, moving from one of the happiest moments to the saddest: before and after their death. These special days now become associated with their tragic demise. You're filled with thoughts of what could have been in terms of hope and dreams, whilst simultaneously being hit with the reality that it has all ended. On their birthdays, you think about all their birthdays when they were alive, and of course, it will really hurt. Everyone will suffer when they die, but getting the images of a child suffering out of your head – particularly when it's your own – is incredibly challenging. You remember them happy on their birthday and contrast it with their suffering at the end.
A stoic attitude is what's required on these days. An acceptance of what fate has dealt you and building resilience to these events will become a lifelong mission. It's still an area I struggle with and will always probably do so. It has taken me some time to accept this.
I truly believe that you must be honest with people that these days will always be hard. They won't, or possibly shouldn't, be anything but. If you've lost a child or are supporting someone who has, they'll suffer during these periods, and any other expectation would be naïve. Being this way doesn't mean that you focus on the misery. There's enough misery to overwhelm everything if we allow it.
A Storm is Coming
Recently, there was a cyclone warning (equivalent to a hurricane or typhoon, depending on where you're reading this) in Brisbane, where I live. There hadn't been a cyclone that far south in Queensland for decades. Brisbane is the third largest city in Australia, and nearly three million people went into a self-imposed lockdown. Everybody planned for electricity outages and food shortages. They tried to weatherproof their properties as well as they could and braced for impact. The cyclone stalled in Moreton Bay and was downgraded to a tropical storm. Certain areas were hit quite badly, but the damage was far less than what was expected. I sat comfortably in the UK, watching it all unfold in my mother’s apartment. I think this is how we need to think about these birthdays and anniversaries for the families at the centre of it all…there's an emotional cyclone on its way. They must prepare themselves for the impact and accept they may incur some damage. If they're lucky, it won't be as bad as anticipated, and they'll have learned how to prepare for the next year. For those of us looking on, we must accept that they may be in lockdown for a few days. The onlookers, unthreatened by the potential damage, should let them get on with it. A few phone calls of support and text messages are all you can do to help them. If the family has prepared properly, they should be okay. Some years can be worse than others. E.g. expect the 10th anniversary of a death to be worse than the 9th or 11th anniversary.
Learning from Experience
I've made many mistakes to get to a point where I believe I can manage these days in my own way. I'm also now far more aware of what the rest of my family requires on these days. I know of people who celebrate their deceased child's milestone birthdays and anniversaries. Others who will set an extra place at the Christmas dinner table. I've heard of people who just go away at these challenging times. If it works for them, then that's what they should do.
The only caution I would offer is don't do anything that will upset other members of your family if they don't want or cannot be involved in something you're doing. These conversations need to be had well ahead of any event. I do have too much anecdotal evidence of people who completely ignore these days. I don't mean asking to avoid conversations or lying low for a few days. Certain people will completely ignore the day and act like nothing has happened…just another day. This can be a short-term strategy in the initial stages of grief. It's not a long-term strategy. If you find yourself acting this way or have a relative who is, then I would suggest you get some sort of support.
The ‘ignore it’ strategy is that it's too much for any individual to maintain. Perhaps more importantly, their behaviour will cause resentment in others. Imagine one parent being very upset on their child’s birthday, and the other completely ignoring the day. This difference in behaviour will drive a wedge in their relationship, with the potential to destroy it. They'll be under enough pressure as it is.
Any surviving siblings will be distressed and confused by it all. They may even think one parent doesn't care about the deceased child and, therefore, won't care about them. None of this bodes well for the future. It can also leave another mark on what's already a difficult enough day for the family.
As always, facing the challenge of a difficult situation is an artform and not an exact science. Things will change from year to year. Developing a toolbox of strategies and knowing when to deploy them will be a lifelong mission.
Hi, I like the metaphor of preparing for a cyclone. It's been 17 years since my son died. Your body remembers the emotional damage and even before you're mentally or physically aware of it, you're in that preparation stage. It always surprised me how long it took me to realize the sadness and physical unease was connected to my son's death that was still months away.
One other thing I'll add is that we all grieve differently. My husband and I grieve almost opposite. We understood that we had to respect the other's process even if we didn't agree with it. Communication and being open with our other son was important--it took us some time to figure that out as well.
Grace, patience, and forgiveness.
Thank you for writing about what's so hard to live. 💜