I usually spend my daughter’s death day in quiet reflection and self-care. It has been the best way, for me, to manage the washboard of grief that comes near my daughter’s death day and birthday. I take a deep heavy sigh after the days pass as if it is another milestone achieved. Never celebratory, but making it through yet another date on the calendar that reminds me of a past life where I lived as a mother and this present life that is vastly different. The two often collide this time of year.
There is a struggle that happens as September comes and while I’ve been at this grief journey for many years, I find there are just some things I don’t want to think about or write about anymore. The pain is too deep and wounds still raw with pain and anguish. Facing this loss year after year can be just too much to bear. As I write this, tears spill from my eyes because I still cannot believe she was taken from me. The questions of why her, why me, may never be answered. But yet I ask.
I hide this as best I can because the vulnerability of it can take a toll on not only me, but the person experiencing it with me. It is the loneliest journey one can be on. It’s a lifetime of flashbacks, of pain and sorrow. It is a wound that never truly heals. This time each year, it’s like the wound opens up and the pain so severe it takes my breath away.
I know hiding is not the answer because the pain and sorrow comes out in my behavior. I withdrawal and become unsociable. I hide behind the pain so no one else can see it. Only those close to me see through it. How can it not? My only child died.
Nothing will ever change that.
Until next time,
Mal
Unimaginable Grief Unexpected Blessings 
I’ve been quietly reading your blog for so many years. I can relate so much to some of your writings due to my father’s death almost 15 years ago. I think he was still alive by the time I started reading your blog, sometimes it feels as if everyone else forgot about him. Thank you for your writings and even though the pain never heals, may it be easier to carry.
Thank you Román for your comment. I’m grateful you find my blog helpful. I’m so sorry for the loss of your father. I’ve lost both parents and I know how hard that can be. I hope that you have a strong support system. Know that the grieving community is here on many platforms to provide support. M
I’m so terribly sorry for your deep grief. For me, it has been 13 long years since my only daughter was killed, I am still mourning her so much that I find it difficult to talk to people now, Ive ended up isolating myself from social events and friends. My darling husband died in June this year after a long painful two years since his cancer diagnosis. Now I have no-one. In fact I can’t cope with people easily, my smile has dropped and the muscles can barely lift my face into any expression at all. Just want to tell you that you are not alone. Sending lots of love, Sarah
Sarah – I’m so sorry you are struggling. Do you have a support system there? I have found finding a purpose in helping others lifts the darkness and helps me find calm and my ability to enjoy life has returned. I’m not sure what is available where you live but please look at whatever is available. Thank you for always posting comments and sharing your grief with me and my readers. I appreciate you so much. Love, Mal