Anniversary

Anniversary

    Merriam-Webster defines an anniversary as “the annual recurrence of a date marking a notable event”.  I think that in general when one mentions the word anniversary, most people often think of a wonderful memory of a first date or wedding.  I would guess that unless you had a tragic event in your life the word anniversary does not evoke a painful memory when first heard.  

    I was very fortunate in my life to have two wonderful Grandmothers.  Both of them were instrumental in my life and shaped the person that I am today.  I find myself thinking of their advice on numerous occasions.  I often think of how happy my Grandmother Alice would be to know that I have been able to use a sewing machine to make things that do resemble what I started out to make.  Or how my Grandmother Dorothy would be amazed that there are some dishes that I can master in a kitchen.  When I graduated with my Masters, I could not help but think of their encouragement as I went through undergrad.  Both of my Grandmothers never doubted my ability - even when I did.  As I walked across the stage, I could feel their presence shining down on me.  

    I’ve attended three funerals within the last month.  As we walked the cemetery of the latest funeral, we stopped at Franklin’s Grandmother’s grave.  The grave read, “November 29, 2005”.  Franklin’s brother said, “It’s hard to believe that it’s been five years since Nanny died”.  This takes me back a week to a conversation with my Mother.  During our normal conversation, my Mother starts crying.  I’m clueless ... she couldn’t possibly be crying about what we had just said.   

    I’m at my parents house.  I can see through the window pane streaks of sunlight.  I go back around 15 years.  Under the window is my twin bed.  It holds a white and green checked quilt with a few scattered squares of a design with a little girl with red hair.  My Grandmother Alice made the quilt for me.  I thought it was the prettiest quilt I had ever seen.  The quilt kept me warm and made me feel safe - kinda like my Grandmothers did.  

    As the sun peaks through the window, I realize my safety blanket is about to leave me.  No longer am I a little girl and I am abruptly faced with the reality that my Grandmothers are not immortal.  Their death is a sharp realization that I’m on my own.  I don’t have them to guide me.  I’m not quite ready to face this loss.  But will I ever be?

    Both of my Grandmothers died in the winter.  They both died in the same room.  Under the window where my twin bed used to be.  I vividly remember the day.  The long weekend that ensued and feeling like the life had been sucked out of me.  However, I can’t figure out why my Mother is crying.  I don’t recognize the anniversary of my Grandmother Dorothy’s death.  

    I think about my Grandmothers on a daily basis.  I seek their guidance by following their examples.  I cry out to them in my dreams.  I pray they protect my daughter.  Losing time with them is my greatest disappointment in life.  But I don’t think about their death.  I have not visited their graves.  I don’t know what this means.  

    One of my dearest friends from college lost his Father last year.  It was such a difficult time.  As a friend, my heart broke for him and his family.  As a daughter, my heart realized my own fears of losing my parents.  We are approaching a year since his Father passed away.  Will that day define his memories?  

    I like the word anniversary bringing a happy memory to mind.  I don’t want to think about the day my Grandmothers died.  I want to think about the many days that they lived.  Or am I just still somewhat in denial?  Could it be that if I don’t think about it, it makes it less of a reality?  I mean, I know they are not here physically.  I know they won’t come back to this life.  But I hold true to my belief that I will see them again in Heaven.  So, do I need to remember the day they died?  Can it just be a season for me?  Can I just know that in winter I lost them?  Can I just be happy keeping them alive in my daily life?  Is it disrespectful to not remember the anniversary of their death?  After all, it was only a physical death and their spirit is still alive in me, in my memories and in special moments with my daughter.  

    Their death was a notable event in my life.  But it’s not an anniversary to me.  Every time I hear Amazing Grace I see their faces.  Every time the peach trees bloom, I smell my Grandmother Dorothy’s peach cobbler.  Every time I feel lost and pray, I hear my Grandmother Alice’s gospel sermon.  Every time ... every time ... every time ... not a day goes by that I don’t think of them.  Some days I cry, others I laugh.  But for me, each day is an anniversary of my memories with them.  And that by far outweighs the anniversary of their deaths.