Those terrible "marker" days that occur on birthdays, death anniversaries, and holidays eventually become less painful as years pass. We may still be taken by surprise when we feel that same pain at a wedding, a funeral, a graduation, or any other event in which our child will no longer participate in this life, but the grief is containable, and there are all those ordinary days - every one of them that occur.
I remember the high school graduation that would have occurred for our son with the shortest life, if only... Another mother was there whose son would have, should have also graduated. The two of us stood out in the halls, peeking through doors, crying. We saw one another but we were not together. Neither of us wanted to ruin the day for our children's friends, we didn't need to hear words of comfort. We just wanted to see their classmates graduate.
As the years pass, grieving parents are usually grateful to those marker days, because we feel we have greater social permission to mention our children that died. We think of them every day, They permeate nearly everything we do. But we believe that other people will understand we have important memories when we use those birthdays, death anniversaries and holidays to mention the names, to share a little story.
Sometimes we step out of line and call attention to our grief on days that aren't markers. For several years, I brought an enormous plant to church to mark our child's upcoming death anniversary. The plant would remain until the next church holiday season, and then I would remove it and plant it outside. There would be a printed acknowledgement that the plant was from my husband and I in memory of our child, but that didn't matter to me. I just liked the silent tribute.
One year as I prepared to take the plant home, a woman that attended church once in a while told me that the "plant thing" was getting tiresome, and that I should get over it. The next year she asked the person in charge of flowers to call me ahead of time and say that someone else had been asked to decorate the church.
Two things happened after that. First, I knew that I didn't really have to create another tradition for memorializing our child. Second, the lady who called me (and who was quite old), approached me in many years later, just after our other son died. She told me how sorry she was that she had followed the critical woman's demand, and that she really would like it if I would forgive her. I already had. I knew it had been done against her better judgement. I told her that perhaps it was better if that other person felt good. I saw no reason to draw attention to myself.
The forgiven woman has died, the critical woman lives on and never attends church. I don't need to see the plant. I know that my son with the shortest life, as well as his brother, continue to be remembered for their good thoughts and kind actions toward others.
