(A lovely row of daffodils growing in the backyard)

As you all know, March is something of a tough month for me. With all the anniversaries behind me for this year, I feel a little more at peace.

Last year I had to work on all three days, and that sucked. I can’t remember which was which, but one of the days I was angry, another I cried all day (in the back between walking people to their table), and the last one I was absent-minded and numb.
This year was better. Time passing has helped. Not working has helped. Being with S and his family has helped.

Memories are interesting. I have come to realize that there is a healthy way to remember something, and an unhealthy way to remember something.
I think last year I didn’t deal with my emotions very well. This year I was a little more graceful with myself.
Another factor is physically doing something to acknowledge the significance of the day. Last year, I went to work and hated people and hated the day and hated having to work. I did nothing out of the ordinary except feel bad (or nothing). This year I went to Micah’s grave. Twice. Once for his birthday, and once on the anniversary of his death. It was rough getting there (nauseous, shaking, feeling hysterical like is my voice always this loud), but I felt so much better after I got out of the car.
The first anniversary of a friend who died rolled around on the 23rd. I had been closer to them in high school than in recent years.
I looked at his picture. I thought of his family. I remembered things he did and said.

It turned those days into a day of remembering love and happiness instead of a day remembering pain and loss.

Everybody dies. It’s a fact. Yet, no one seems to want to talk about it. Whether you’ve lost someone or you have been lucky so far, everyone will have to face this. People don’t know what to say. They avoid, or they’re awkward, or they say stupid, hurtful things that I hope they did not mean. Better to say nothing other than to expressing that you care about the person experiencing the loss. Nothing anyone says really makes it any better anyway. The important thing isn’t magic words. It’s the love shared between the living. The part of friendship that says, “I don’t know how to help you, but I’m here and I want to.”

This doesn’t have to be a horrible, awful, awkward subject. Death is a fact,  just like childbirth. Funny how I hear WAY WAY WAY MORE DETAILS about popping out a kid (FROM TOTAL STRANGERS) than I ever wanted to know, but people clam up when death is mentioned.
I don’t have a kid, but I can talk about it. I don’t know what to say either, other than ‘EW.’ or ‘Well at least s/he’s cute now?’
Death is the same. It’s a fact. It’s a subject. The world needs more people who are unafraid to approach the topic.