I wasn’t planning to get into my own “stuff” so much as tee up this Walking distance entry to entice my readers into their own reflections, when I tweeted that earlier this week. So when I posted this note that hinted at my personal sadness on my Facebook page, I was a little uncomfortable (as I usually am) and certainly surprised that it elicited a few responses.
What did I say?
When a dreaded anniversary approaches, there is nowhere to run. Coming up in Walking distance later this week: When a memory hurts.
I was having a bad moment. Not even a bad day, but a bad moment when the underlying sadness in my life history bubbles to the surface. It happens now and then, and I am not alone in knowing what this feels like.
My blog “promo,” I thought, was harmless, but from the responses I received, I felt a connection to people that words cannot explain.
The responses were practically immediate. They were expressions of compassion, kindness, friendship, encouragement. This one was particularly pointed: “Remember the happiness that you had, not the sadness that happened. Easier said than done.”
That post, like the others that followed it, carried so much real feeling, I had to rethink what I wanted to tell you this week. For that, I am grateful. I want to keep things in perspective. It’s about treasuring our good memories. It’s about moving on from them and living life the best we can, to the fullest we can.
So let me share with you the idea that I was aiming at, when I opened up my heart in a tweet.
July 23, 2007.
Does the date mean anything to you?
How about Sept. 11, 2001?
That gives it away, doesn’t it? They are days from calendars past when life changed irrevocably for certain people. Dealing with the anniversary of the death of someone we love is one of the painful residual effects of loss. And it is inescapable.
On July 23, 2007, Dr. William Petit of Cheshire, Conn., lost his wife and two daughters in a horrific home invasion that destroyed not only his family, their home and everything in it, but the life the Petits had created and the dreams they were building.
As the fourth anniversary of the Petit murders approaches, Dr. Petit will relive that terrible day and the events leading up to it. He will not do this intentionally, if he does. This is the kind of experience that shakes a person’s world, unsummoned. The sadness comes on its own and it cannot be avoided.
We can relate to this feeling, but cannot understand it in the way that the families feel it. That should not prevent us from being empathetic and showing respect and kindness. It is the best we can offer.
Sept. 11, 2001 is one of those days that brings that out for so many of us. The familiar date was drilled into the American psyche when we watched jet planes crash into the World Trade Center, the Pentagon, and a remote field in Pennsylvania. We think of it as “9/11,” but for the families of the thousands killed that day, it is the anniversary of their loved ones’ deaths.
I agree that a death anniversary gives us an opportunity to remember the good, once we get past the unavoidable pain. Memories can hurt, but they also heal. As one friend suggested, it can help to honor the loss responsibly. As another friend said, it is our experiences that make us who we are. As long as we can stand up and be strong, good, giving people, we are honoring our loved ones.
In the coming weeks, I’ll take a look at how Dr. Petit, and one of my friends who lost a brother on 9/11 are living examples of those great comments from my Facebook friends. Be sure to follow Walking distance, because their stories are worth knowing.
When I started to write this entry, I had to look up the saying, “adapt and overcome” because I initially thought the saying was, “adapt and survive.”
Maybe that’s just my version of it. But I can edit it one better. How about, “Adapt and live fully”?
Copyright 2011 By Marianne V. Heffernan
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