Angel Day

Hi Ladybug!

How is it today? Today is 6 years since I rubbed your feet, kissed your cheek, held you as you took your last breath on Earth. Mind boggling!

Over these last 6 years, I’ve approached this day, the anniversary of your Angel wings, in different ways. The last couple of years, I have noticed that I haven’t had as much difficulty with the approaching days and weeks. Those first couple of years were brutal! Oddly enough, though, I have struggled with mental focus and sticking to the task at hand this week. I kept thinking it was lack of sleep, too much sugar, changing barometer, etc. Nope, I think my mind and body and heart knew this anniversary was coming and just shut down some non-essential systems for a little rest.

I think I’ve come to an understanding, for myself at least, about the difference between mourning and grieving. Mourning is the outward expression of sadness. In years gone by, it was wearing black and covering your face with a veil. Staying in, doing less in smaller ways. It was the break we allowed each other, to acclimate to the new reality. In modern times, we don’t have the clear cut guidelines. We don’t wear black, we don’t curtail activities, we barely take time off from work to attend a funeral. And it’s pretty socially unacceptable to wail and collapse, or just go to bed and never shower again. So the wailing takes place in the shower! Or in the closet. Or in the car. The collapse takes place in our mind, behind our eyes, a shutting out of the world and operating on autopilot, maybe for a very long time. Mourning is the reason behind skipping makeup, saying no to invitations we would have previously accepted, wearing yoga pants day in and day out.

Grief is different. Grief is the rewiring of the brain and restructuring of the heart, to operate without an essential piece of our soul. It’s the reason I no longer care if the towels aren’t folded exactly so, or if the sheets aren’t changed when they should be. Because seriously, who really cares! It’s the change in the carriage and stance, the different shape of the eyes, the need to look to find something beautiful or funny or fantastic. The need to look for color in the world. Pre-grief, the world is multicolored, in grief the world is monochromatic, unless you make the effort to look for the color. Forever.

But, my darling, I do see color. I look for it on purpose. Starting with pink sunsets. And pandas and trees and flowers and donuts and mountains and the love in the eyes of my people.

Over these last 6 years, I’ve wandered through ways to mark the anniversary of your Angel wings. The first year, your Dad and I spent in a sweet B&B in the mountains, still mourning while furiously grieving. The next few years have varied. One year we ended a sibling trip back east. One year was on purpose very quiet. One year I tried to have it be a regular day, and just work as normal. (Terrible idea for me!) As this year approached, I looked at the calendar and on purpose kept my day free and resisted the “regular life” your Dad had on his calendar, including meetings. We connected last night, as I wanted to make sure he knew what my heart needed today and I wanted to make sure I knew what his heart needed. He told me he just couldn’t “do it.” That he would celebrate your birthday, but that he just couldn’t spend this day in sadness every year, though he was very sorry it was a sad day for me, and he knew I needed the space a clear calendar offered. I couldn’t express what I needed to say, in that moment, but circled back in a bit with this: It’s not that this is, necessarily, a sad day for me. But that it is important for me to reserve the space of this day. I didn’t know what that actually meant until this morning.

I’ve figured it out! And I’m officially calling this day my Angel Day. You, my Angel, get to do whatever you want to do, and don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. So, starting today, my Angel Day will be the same. Today, I get to do whatever I want to do, and don’t have to do whatever I don’t want to do! It’s not about spending the day in sadness, though there will always be some of that, I suppose. But it’s about being free to do as I please, in whatever way I choose, to connect with you.

Today, that included an orange scone with my Diet Coke. (Icing all the way to the edge! They did it right!) and a wander through Pier1, looking at new chairs. And then I took you to the new Coach Outlet. I didn’t intend to purchase anything, I just wanted to be with you there. You had other ideas! 😉 I was going to get my hair cut and decided that was too ordinary for a do what I please day. I invited your Dad to lunch and a drive to Estes to get a Caramel Apple. We enjoyed the drive, commenting as we always do driving up the Big Thompson Canyon, that you would love the geology of that canyon! It was a perfect October in Colorado day. I saw a pheasant in my front yard today and 2 groups of Big Horn Sheep plus a 12 pt Elk. I do love the animals! Lacey is feeling better after her chiro apt yesterday, (yes, I took the dog to a chiropractor…) and that is a heart lift, for sure!

Tonight, we will watch either I, Robot or The Mummy. It’s so funny to me that these are 2 of your favorite movies! That fact just makes me laugh. We were going to have bacon cheddar burgers tonight, but aren’t hungry after the caramel apples, so we’ll wait on that. Maybe tomorrow. Or next week, or on a random Tuesday. Because I can and do connect with you whenever and wherever the thought occurs, which is very, very often.

Tomorrow I will resume real life. Duty and obligation and meaningful work and tasks. But today was my Angel Day and it was perfect. It’s now on my calendar as a repeating day. My Angel Day. My Do-Whatever-I-Want day to be with my Girl on purpose, enjoying the heart and thought and joy and yes, sadness that is my Angel.

I am thankful for gorgeous October skies, a pheasant in my yard, Big Horn Sheep, cool rock canyon walls, a lilt in Lacey’s step, a chocolate chip caramel apple, your little brother, who went apple picking with his boy and picked one for you, your sweet, loving, grieving Dad, who can no longer bare to mourn. I’m thankful I can connect with you in a million ways, even while not being able to connect with you in the one way I desire most, in person.

I am thankful for today!!